Not Normal, Never Normal
by Mayle
Summary: John Watson is a normal 16 year old boy, except for one thing: he has blood that is irresistible to all vampires. Everywhere he turns he is attacked by another vampire. He moves to St. Bart's in hopes that no vampires will be able to get to him. When he is faced with the one thing he runs from, will he make it through?
1. Chapter 1

John knew as soon as he stepped in the room. He knew without any doubt. He knew more than he had ever known anything before. He knew that he was in trouble. Big trouble.

As soon as he opened the door to his new room he saw a beautiful creature. He saw a young vampire. The first thing John noticed was dark curls that were in that messy-but-beautiful-anyway fashion. The vampire had the palest skin and the sharpest cheekbones. John's eyes looked up and down the vampire's tall, slender limbs. He was sitting languidly at his desk reading a book.

"Hello? Earth to boy? Hello?" Suddenly, John snapped back to life.

"W-w-what?" John sputtered.

"Finally, I was saying hello. My name is," suddenly his pale lips stopped, he breathed deeply through his nose.

John froze, his eyes snapping shut of their own accord. He knew what happened next. He tensed and braced himself for the inevitable attack. He felt the gush of wind that he was unfortunately used to. He screwed his eyes shut even tighter. It took John several moments before he realized nothing was happening. He opened an eye. The vampire was gone. He let out a sigh of relief and relaxed.

This was weird though. He knew what that boy (or perhaps man) was. All the others of his kind were the same. But this boy didn't attack him. He just left. How could this be? No vampire had ever _not _attacked him.

* * *

John settled into the room, putting his clothes in his closet and his things on his desk. After he had everything neat and tidy, just the way he liked it, he sat awkwardly on his bed wondering what he should do. He'd already gone to the office asking for a new room, but the secretary said that 221B was the last available room. He had desperately begged to be moved to another room. The secretary got angry and told him there was no way he could already need to be moved.

John noticed that his hands were shaking. He frantically tried to make them stop. His breathing suddenly became heavy and erratic. He broke out in sweat and his vision blurred. He was starting to have another panic attack. He shook so bad he slipped off the bed. He curled himself into a fetal position, shaking, sweating and crying.

He was lost in a haze of the past. He saw vampire upon vampire that he had encountered before, to the first one he ever saw to the last one only a month ago. In the haze he saw pale limbs and blood. He cried out as the pain was relived over and over again. He tried shouting "No" and "Help", but no words escaped his lips. He saw a clear image of the face of his new roommate, eyes wide with surprise and worry, and then was lost completely.

* * *

John jerked awake suddenly. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and his brain to comprehend where he was. White walls, a curtain around a narrow bed. This must be the nurse's station.

"Hello?" John called out, "Is anyone there?"

A portly woman opened the curtain slightly. She was a cheery looking woman with bright lips and dark hair. She was wearing a nurse uniform and a huge grin.

"Mr. Watson!" she cried, happily, "We're so glad you are awake! We were very worried. Though your mother did say that you have panic attacks, we were still concerned to find you unconscious."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," John said softly.

"No need to be sorry!" she chuckled, "However, if you could, next time you feel one coming on, do try to let someone know, ok dearie?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded politely, "May I go now?"

"Whenever you are ready!" she smiled and disappeared around the curtain.

John careful stood and stretched a bit. He wondered who'd found him. Was it his roommate? John shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. Did he find John laying there defenseless and…? John felt his neck. No bite marks. He felt his wrists. No. He felt his legs. None. He felt his chest. Still none. Perhaps it wasn't his roommate that found him.

He shuddered again at the thought of the pale, dark-headed vampire who was now his new roommate. He sighed, knowing he would eventually have to face him. _Sooner or later _his thoughts whispered to him. He sighed again and stepped around the curtain. The nurse was on the phone with someone. When she noticed him standing awkwardly she smiled and gestured to the door as if to say "Go ahead and go back to your room." John left quietly, in no hurry.

After walking for a few moments he realized his arms were still wrapped around him. He shakily let them drop. He straightened his posture and held his head up high. He figured he had to be brave, like his dad always taught him.

"_Square off those shoulders," _his father's voice said firmly in his mind, _"You can't let anyone conquer you. Be brave, my son."_

John straightened up even taller as he remembered his father telling him this only a month before he died. His steps became steadier, as he walked to what he viewed as his certain doom. he remained physically steady, though his thoughts ran rampant.

_Will it be quick? Will he just drain me and be done with it? Or will he just continue to do it? What if I become some sort of pet to him? I wonder if he'll be there waiting for me. Or maybe he'll attack me in my sleep. No. that's not likely. I mean, none of the others have done that. He did seem different than the others though. Less like he was trying to draw me in and more like he wish he could ignore me. Maybe it won't be so bad after all…_

John quickly shook that thought out of his mind. No reason to be optimistic in such a situation. He'd better just expect the worst. Very suddenly, John realized he was back to 221B. He took a deep breath and put his hand on the door handle. He let out his breath and slowly opened the door.

Just as he expected, his new roommate was waiting for him, his head bent over a book. The tall vampire didn't make a move except to close his book his book with a snap. His blue eyes searched John, as he stood frozen by the door. It seemed an eternity had passed before either boy said a word.

"John Watson, I presume," the beautiful boy spoke.

"Yes, that would be me," John gently closed the door behind him, "And what would your name be?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," the boy stood and bowed his head, "It is a pleasure to meet you, John Watson."

"The pleasure is mine, Sherlock Holmes," John replied, trying to remember his manners.

Sherlock took a few steps forward. John forced himself to stay still. The taller boy extended his right hand. John took the shockingly cold hand and shook it, quickly letting go.

"We both know that that isn't true, John," Sherlock stated (rather randomly, in John's opinion).

"Um. What isn't true?" john questioned.

"That you find pleasure in meeting me," Sherlock brushed some of his beautiful hair from his eyes and stared into John's, "You already don't like me. You wish you hadn't moved. You even wish I'd kill you and make it quick."

John just stood there, his jaw hanging down somewhere near his knees.

"That _is _correct, isn't it?" Sherlock cocked his head to one side.

"Yes," John breathed, unable to sputter out a lie, "But how did you know?"

"I deduced you," Sherlock stated simply.

"Deduced?"

"Yes, that means I figured out what certain things you did, meant," Sherlock's eyes dropped momentarily, "Such as your panic attack. I assume you have PTSD. The events that caused this are related to vampires, yes?"

"Y-yes," stuttered John, in amazement, "That's astounding! How do you do that?"

Sherlock looked taken aback. He easily recomposed himself and simply shrugged his shoulders. He then turned, without any explanation and sat back at his desk. He opened the book he left on the desk and began reading, once again. John stood frozen, still unsure what to make of this vampire or what to do.

"Well, sit down," the vampire said, snappishly.

John scurried to his own desk, which sat beside Sherlock's, and sat down quickly. He waited, silently, perched on his seat. He wondered what the next order would be and waited for it to come from those lovely pale lips.

"What's wrong?" instead came from the lips.

"Huh?" john had confusion written in neon on his face.

"Why are you just sitting there, staring at me?" Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at the strange blonde boy.

"I, uh, was waiting," John cleared his throat, "For you to tell me what to do."

"Why do you need me to tell you what to do?" the book closed with another snap, now that John had Sherlock's undivided attention.

"W-what? I don't," John stammered, a slight dusting of red filling his cheeks, "I just assumed that, well, uh…."

"Oh, I see," Sherlock leaned back, casually, "You think because I am a vampire, I will start ordering you around, making you do things. Such as remove your clothing and bend over the desk, yes?"

John's slight dusting of red became crimson as the sexual implication was uttered from Sherlock. He bowed his head, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Well, I suppose I should clear this up then," Sherlock sighed, "I will not order you to do anything. Nor will I attack you. I will not touch you in any sort of inappropriate way. I will not try to charm you in any way. Does this put your mind at ease, John Watson?"

"Uh, not really," John answered honestly, though he wasn't sure why he was being honest with this vampire, "Lots of vampires have said similar things to me, in the past."

"I see," Sherlock put his fingertips together, under his chin, "Well, the only way to convince you is to allow you to see for yourself, as time progresses."

John was uncertain of what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. He hated how he wasn't sure what to say to his new roommate. His roommate took John's silence to mean that the conversation was through and returned to his book.

John sat there, at his desk, with his head bowed for quite some time. He was waiting quietly for what he felt was the inevitable. He waited for Sherlock to go back on what he had said. After an hour of the silence, Sherlock's book snapped shut once more. John instinctively tensed.

"For bloody sake," Sherlock's voice was raised in annoyance, "Just go to bed already! It's 10 o'clock at night and we have classes tomorrow!"

"Ok," John whispered and scampered off to obey Sherlock's order.

John got into his pajamas and slipped into bed. He lay with his eyes closed, but his mind wide awake. Once again, his brain was filled with questions about his new vampire roommate.

_Why didn't he order me to do anything besides to sit and go to bed? Is he playing with my mind? I wonder how long he will drag this out. Does he do this with all his victims? Is he trying to make sure that I'll have strength for whatever it is he is planning? Or maybe he prefers-_

"Shut up!" shouted Sherlock.

John jumped and squealed in a very unattractive manner.

"I-I didn't say a-anything," John whimpered.

"You're thinking too loud!" Sherlock cast an agitated look at him, "Just go to sleep for Pete's sake!"

"S-sorry. I-I'll go to sleep now."

John closed his eyes tight and willed himself to sleep. The last thing he remembered, before drifting off, was the sound of an exasperated sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

John slowly woke up. He refused to open his eyes. Instead, he just laid there listening. He heard the softest _tap tap tap_. The tapping was regular, like the way a person taps their foot when they're impatient. John assumed this was his roommate's impatient foot. John kept his eyes closed, almost afraid of what may happen if he opened them.

"Quit pretending!" Sherlock shouted, "We have classes to go to! Get up!"

John jumped at the shout and leapt out of bed. He stood still for a few seconds, before realizing his eyes were still closed. He slowly pried them open. His eyelids seemed to be putting up a fight. Finally, he was squinting at his roommate, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock's baritone voice floated into John's ears.

"I-I'm up n-n-now," John allowed his eyelids to relax.

"Ok?" Sherlock sighed, "Don't you think you should get dressed now?"

"O-oh, y-yeah," john stuttered as he stumbled over to his closet.

He quickly pulled out his uniform and hurried to the bathroom. He dressed swiftly and brushed his teeth. He didn't know what was going to happen next. He supposed that Sherlock would tell him once he was dressed. He left the bathroom and sat on his bed, putting on his shoes. Then he straightened and folded his hands in his lap. Then he waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock questioned again.

"Waiting for you to give me another order," John whispered, confused.

"I thought I already told you I wasn't going to do that?" Sherlock was practically shouting now, "I just want to go through school the same as you do, John Watson. I don't want to order you around. I don't want your blood or your ass. I want to go to classes, do experiments and continue on with my life! Will you quit with the soldier routine already?!"

"S-s-sorry," John shrank smaller and smaller as Sherlock stared him down.

"No, don't be sorry," Sherlock softened slightly, and knelt beside the smaller boy, "I'm sorry. I realize you have been through a great deal and I am being very callous. Please, I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Sherlock reached his hand forward, in an attempt to mimic a sentimental he had seen many times before. John tensed as the pale hand glided toward him. Sherlock rested his hand on John's folded ones (he was sure this was how it was done). John flinched as the cold skin touched his and his eyes squeezed shut. His head leaned back of its own accord and he stilled completely. There was a pause and then quite suddenly Sherlock leapt away.

"Fine! Fine!" his voice shook with rage, "I tried, but clearly you only see me as a monster! Fine!"

After the final "Fine!" he stormed away, leaving John more confused than ever. John pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He buried his face in his knees. Without realizing it, john had started crying. His shoulders shook as he silently cried into his knees.

"I don't understand," he sobbed, "I th-thought…I just d-d-don't know what to do!"

John knew that all the vampires he'd encountered before had attacked him. Usually it was quick and they left him bleeding in an alley somewhere. Some of them dragged it out longer, over several weeks. He didn't understand what his roommate was doing. Was this some sort of mind game? He sobbed harder into his knees, with thoughts and memories racing around his brain.

John felt sharp pains all over his body, as he relived all the times he'd been attacked. Claw-like fingernails dug into his skin as sharp fangs dug deep into his neck and shoulders. He screamed, but a hand was over his mouth. He struggled against strong hands and arms. He felt fingers ripping off his pants and digging into him. Tears streamed thickly down his face and he tried to shout again.

Again, every vampire he ever encountered crossed his mind, fangs bared with eyes filled with hunger and lust. Beautiful eyes and mouths and hair flashed in his mind. Finally, his mind seemed to stop on dark curls and beautiful blue eyes. His roommate stared down on him in shock and worry. John's eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness once again.

* * *

As John regained consciousness he felt a cold hand on his left forearm. The sheets seemed familiar. The nurse's office? _Oh, _he thought, _I passed out again. _He sighed and started to open his eyes. He felt a gust of wind and his eyes snapped open. He looked around to find no one there.

"H-h-hello?" John's voice cracked.

"Hey, John, dearie," came the nurse's cheery voice, "I'm a bit busy. You can go on back to your room."

John slowly slid off the bed. He went around the curtain yet again. The nurse was scribbling away on a paper. John didn't know what it was, but he suspected it might be about him. The nurse lifted up concerned eyes.

"Dearie, you really should try to say something," the nurse gave him a sad smile, "I know it's hard, sweetie, but at least try to tell your roommate. He seems very concerned about you. Now, go on back to class. You'll have no classes today, but starting Monday you will."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," john said sheepishly.

The nurse smiled once again and waved John to the door. She then returned to scribbling on her paper. John shuffled out the door, wondering what she had meant about his roommate being concerned. He shuffled all the way to 221B, his head bowed. He opened the door and peered inside. No Sherlock in sight. He shuffled in, closing the door and sat on his bed.

He had felt his roommate's hand. He was sure of it and he was sure he had felt that gust of wind. His mind started whirling.

_Why did the vamp-Sherlock run off? Is he mad at me? Does he hate me because of my blood? Why was he even there in the first place? Where is he now? _

"You're doing it again," Sherlock's baritone voice rang out.

John gave a strangled yelp and fell off his bed. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Sherlock come in. john scrambled back up.

"D-doing what again?" John asked, uneasily.

"Thinking too loud," Sherlock frowned at the blonde and sat at his desk, "Are you ok?"

"Y-yes," John blushed, he wasn't sure why he was embarrassed, but he was.

"Good," Sherlock touched the tips of his finger together, under his chin, "I seem to be causing you quite a bit of trouble, John Watson."

John bowed his head and kept his mouth closed.

"Will you tell me what happened to you?" Sherlock's deep blue eyes pierced through him.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

John didn't know where to begin. He didn't even know why he was beginning. He didn't know this guy, this vampire. He had no reason to trust him. So why did he automatically say yes?

_It's because he's just going to kill me anyway. Why should I resist? Maybe he'll be nice about it…or something._

"John?" Sherlock prompted, "You don't have to."

"I-it's o-o-ok," John took a shaky breath, "Well, I guess it kind of started when I was 7 years old. I was walking home from school-I lived pretty close to school-when this guy stopped me. He had raven black hair, tied in a ponytail. He was dressed really nice; I remember thinking "Why is he dressed for church?" His eyes were dark. He said "Hello there, Johnny." I didn't know how he knew my name, but when I asked he just laughed. Then he touched my face. I smiled at him and said I had to go home now. He said I could go home with him. I told him my mom wouldn't like that. He said he knew her and she said it was ok. I didn't know…"

John paused, his hands were shaking. He closed his eyes tightly. After taking a few deep breaths he slowly opened his eyes. Sherlock was leaning forward with a concerned look on his face.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock questioned.

"I'm fine," John mentally shook himself, "He bit into my shoulder, near my neck. I tried to scream, but his hand was over my mouth. He'd pulled us off to the side, in an alley. I tried to fight against him, but his body was pressed hard against me. I was so small. I started to black out, my eyes were going fuzzy. Suddenly, he stumbled back. His mouth was dripping with my blood. I was so shocked. I didn't know what to do. He stumbled around a bit, laughing. I hadn't realized I was on the ground until I fell over onto my side. I tried to move, but I was so weak. He leaned over me, wobbling a little. H-he touched m-my face. He said I was delicious. He s-said he'd c-come back s-s-some time. That's a-all. He just left. I f-felt a gust of wind a-and he was gone."

Sherlock stared at John, without emotion. His hands were tented underneath his chin. He cocked his head to the side a bit.

"There is more," Sherlock stated, it wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes," John sighed, "There were five more, over the next two years. A few weeks after my ninth birthday a tall blonde vampire grabbed me a-and f-f-f," john paused, taking a breath, "Forced himself on me. He left me in an alleyway bleeding from my arms and my ass. There was eight more in the next three years, like that, l-l-like the blonde one."

Sherlock's eyes seemed to soften as he stared at John. John shook his head. _Not soften_, he thought, _he's a vampire. _As far as John was concerned his new roommate would be no better than any of the others. John took another deep breath.

"And then there was Mr. Larson," John rubbed the back of his head nervously; "I met him when I was 13. He was my homeroom teacher. He, uh, wasn't really like the others. He took a little from me at a time, usually. And when he…raped me…it wasn't as fast or hungry. He didn't tell me not to tell, he would just look at me and smile before I left. I was so scared. I h-h-had n-no idea wh-what to do."

John stopped talking for several moments, as his hands started shaking.

"I just took it," he whispered, "For three years. Sometimes there would be a random vampire on my way home from school. When he found the marks he'd be really mad and hit me. Eventually, my mom figured out that something was wrong. She sort of got it out of me. I was having attacks and stuff and she finally asked what was going on and I sort of shouted about Mr. Larson. Th-they d-d-didn't get him."

"What?" Sherlock suddenly stood up.

"I s-said they didn't get him," John shrank back as Sherlock towered over him, "H-h-he g-got a-away."

"Right," Sherlock nodded, "Thanks for telling me everything. Sorry, but I have to go. Wait, what did he look like?"

"He h-had one brown eye and one blue eye," John hated remembering this, "And blonde hair. There was also a b-burn on his side. He said he f-fell on a hot coal."

"Thank you," Sherlock stated, no emotion on his face, "Now, I most go. I'll be back. Don't worry. Not that you would."

Sherlock started for the door in a hurry. He stopped and turned back to his shaking roommate.

"Should I get the nurse?" he said, cautiously.

"Y-y-yes," John's teeth chattered and his thighs began to shake.

"Right, got it," Sherlock made for the door again, "Oh, and don't leave the school until I return. That is very important. Stay in the school."

"O-o-o-o…" John shook so hard he couldn't finish saying ok.

Sherlock left in a gust of wind. John's vision started to blur. He tried putting his head between his knees like his doctor had told him, but he just ended up falling on the floor. His heart was beating wildly and he laid there wondering where Sherlock was going.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock didn't return the next morning. John spent most of his Saturday sitting in their room, staring at Sherlock's bed. Where was the pale vampire with beautiful dark curls and mesmerizing grey-blue eyes? John closed his eyes and saw the cheekbones that could cut glass. Pale skin filled in forming a nose and pale pink lips. Those pale lips stayed in his mind for what seemed like an eternity.

"Where did you go?" John whispered, "And why do I care?"

John's thoughts were muddled in an awful way. He'd known this vampire for barely two days. So why did his lips seem to haunt him? And why did he care that he'd disappeared? John supposed it was some sort of vampire magic or something. He sighed and crawled under his covers, though he wasn't tired. He just lay there staring at Sherlock's half of the room. What was that mysterious boy doing?

John suddenly bolted up and fell ungracefully out of his bed. He landed face down on the floor with his feet still on the bed. He groaned, _I'm hopeless _he thought, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. He finally just gave up, sliding the rest of the way onto the floor. He lay there, thoughtless. These were the blissful moments when he didn't have to think about hurt, violence, rape, or vampires. These were the wonderful moments when he only thought of blackness. There was nothing and it was beautiful.

"What are you doing on the floor?" came a wonderful baritone voice.

John refused to turn around to look at his roommate. He blushed profusely but didn't move a muscle. He just lay there. He tried to force thoughts of embarrassment away. He wanted his peaceful thoughtless time, but it was too late. He sighed heavily and started untangling himself.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock took a cautious step forward.

"I'm fine," John said, tiredly, "I just fell out of bed."

"Oh," Sherlock crouched to help John untangle himself.

John forced himself not to flinch and together they managed to remove the sheets from his legs (though the sheets resisted greatly). Sherlock threw the sheets back up on John's bed and turned to face the blue-eyed boy. Said blue eyes were now locked on his. Sherlock suddenly flushed with heat. This heat filled his whole body, filled him until he couldn't breathe and it kept filling him. He gasped and scrambled backwards, leaving John to look at him with a confused face.

The heat left him suddenly. Left him cold and confused. He stared in wonder at the shortish boy with blonde hair, who blushed at his intense gaze. He quickly ran through all he knew about his species. Unfortunately, he knew very little as he had never cared to learn about the disgusting thing he was. There he sat with no clue what was happening. _Me, Sherlock Holmes! _He shouted in his mind, _I am clueless? How is this possible? I always know what is going on!_

Peeved and out right frustrated at his not knowing something, he quickly scanned John, trying to deduce him. He was still wearing his school uniform, meaning he'd not taken it off when Sherlock left and he hadn't had a shower. He also slept in it, so obviously he was perturbed about something. Considering the time frame, it was probably Sherlock's sudden leave.

"You were curious where I went," Sherlock stated (trying to not blurt), "You were worried, but you didn't know what to do or who to talk to. So you just sat in here."

"Uh, y-yes," John gaped at him, "How did you know that?"

"I deduced you," Sherlock shrugged.

"Amazing," John said (and meant it), "What else do you know about me?"

John had his legs out in front of him and was leaning forward on his hands. He rather looked childish, Sherlock thought, _but in a cute way_. Sherlock shook away that thought and looked at John's eager face. He didn't have the heart to say anything bad about him, so he tried for the good.  
"You want to be a doctor," Sherlock said, "Probably a military doctor, since your father was in the military. You like things to be neat and clean. You like things the same, but you enjoy a bit of danger now and then."

John just gaped at him, and then burst into a huge grin. He leaned forward even more, just grinning at Sherlock. Sherlock watched the boy closely, unsure of what to make of his eager body language.

"That is so cool," John's eyes sparkled as he said it.

"That's not what people usually say," Sherlock cocked his head at him.

"Oh?" John's smile faded in curiosity, "What do they usually say?"

"Piss off," Sherlock said briskly, as though he didn't care.

"Huh," John leaned back a bit, though his hands were still between his legs, "Well, I think it's amazing. You're brilliant."

"Most people just call me a freak," Sherlock looked away from John's curious eyes.

"Well, you're not," John insisted, "You're the only person to show me any bit of kindness in a long time."

Sherlock looked at John sharply, his eyes flashing in anger. John shrank back from him.

"I'm not a _person,_" Sherlock growled at him, "I am a vampire and don't forget it!"

John's knees flew up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He buried his face in his knees and tried to shut out everything. _Why was I so stupid? I let my guard down and now Sherlock was angry and surely he would_…John shuddered not wanting to finish that last thought.

"S-sorry," came John's muffled, shaky voice.

"No," Sherlock moved toward John, "No, no. I'm sorry. I just get frustrated sometimes. I don't want you to be scared. I want you to…"

Sherlock stopped. _What do I want? _He thought. He'd mostly spent the few days he knew John trying to protect him and keep him from being scared. But why? What did he really want from this blonde boy? _His blood_, whispered the darkness inside his brain. Sherlock blinked hard. _Is that really all I want? I am a monster….no, no. I don't want his blood. I just don't want him to be scared. _He shook his head violently and looked back at the ball that was John Watson.

"Listen," Sherlock cleared his throat, "I don't want you to be scared, because I don't want anything from you. I just want to go through school like I said. Please calm down. You will have an attack if you don't."

For some unknown reason Sherlock's voice seemed to calm John down. That soothing way the baritone sound flowed into his ears seemed to slow his heart rate and stop his shaking. He managed to calm down and peek over his knees at Sherlock. Sherlock was on all fours leaning toward John with a worried look on his face. _Oh, that is a nice view of him, _John thought before he could stop himself. He blushed horribly and buried his head in his knees again.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked, gingerly.

"Yes," John's voice was muffled, but steady.

There was silence as Sherlock watched John closely and John tried to force himself to quit blushing. Finally, John calmed himself and unraveled slightly, allowing his knees to fall out to the side a bit. Sherlock just watched him, still in the same position. _He kinda looks like a dog; _John couldn't help but giggle at that. Then he couldn't stop the giggles. They just kept coming, like a current that had been held back for years. And indeed, John had not giggled in many, many years.

"What?" Sherlock looked at the boy in total confusion, "Why are you laughing?"

"S-sorry!" John sputtered with laughter, "It's just I-I th-thought you looked like a d-dog and I j-just thought that was s-silly!"

Sherlock blushed profusely and fell back onto his butt. He'd never been very embarrassed before and wasn't quite sure why he was now. He watched John's fit of laughter and decided he rather liked John's laughing face, especially in comparison to his usual depressed face. He wondered if he actually looked that much like a dog or if John was just loopy. _I don't really care, _he realized, _I just like to see him laughing._


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up feeling a feeling he didn't recognize. It was a bubbly feeling, an elated feeling. _Is this happiness? _Wondered John. Surely not. It'd been so long since John had felt genuinely happy. Years, even. He wasn't even sure if it _was _happiness. But as he turned over and saw Sherlock's sleeping form, he knew it was happiness. Why did this vampire make him happy? Maybe it was the way Sherlock didn't attack him or look at him with hunger or lust. Sherlock just looked at him, like a normal person. The closest to scary that Sherlock had gotten was the moment he'd met him, he'd seen a brief look of hunger in Sherlock's eyes before he'd disappeared.

"JOHN!" Sherlock's baritone was a shout.

"W-w-what?" John sputtered.

"I've been trying to talk to you for that past five minutes," Sherlock sighed from his bed, "I said "Good morning. How are you feeling?" and then you just stared at me with this little grin on your face."

John blushed generously and covered his face with his sheets.

"Why are you hiding?" Sherlock questioned, raising his head a bit from his pillow.

"N-no reason," John blushed harder, "I'm j-just a b-bit embarrassed."

Suddenly, Sherlock was pulling back the sheets from John's face. He had one eyebrow lifted at John. He stared a John for several moments, before he spoke a word. This only made John blush more.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," Sherlock spoke softly, in a way that made John shiver, "I won't judge you or anything like that. I have no room to judge anyone, especially not someone who has been through so much."

John looked at him with tears in his eyes. His blush had disappeared and all that was left was the cutest smile and watery eyes Sherlock had ever seen. Sherlock's lips were on John's before he even realized he had leaned forward. John stiffened and stayed completely still when Sherlock's lips touched his. His eyes were wide and staring at Sherlock. _Is he..is he…he's kissing me…he-he-he's kissing me…._John's thoughts whirled and sputtered inside his mind. Sherlock's lips were there for only two seconds, but it seemed like forever to John. Seeing John's rigid form, Sherlock backed off completely.

"I'm s-sorry, John," Sherlock half-stuttered, he _never _stuttered, "That was wrong of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

There was a blur and a gust of wind and Sherlock was gone. John's muscles remained tense as his thoughts continued to fly around. _He apologized? He kissed me. It was so soft, but he apologized._ John touched his lips, still feeling that light softness of Sherlock's lips. His body relaxed as a smile crept onto his face. He didn't even realize it was there.

* * *

"Hey, mom," John said into his cellphone, "How are you?"

He knew his mom tried not to call. He knew she was trying to give him room to breathe. He knew she was trying to be nice. But it was so great to get a call from her.

"Johnny!" His mom shouted in glee, "I'm so, so wonderful and I bet you are too, aren't you?"

"Wh-what? What are you talking about?" john questioned, _does she know about Sherlock?_

"You haven't seen the news?!" his mom's joyful shout was enough to make John smile broadly, "That awful -he was found dead! Someone called in to the police with an anonymous tip! I mean, I can't say death is wonderful, but oh Johnny! He's gone!"

John's heart seized. _H-he's gone? _He knew he shouldn't be so happy about someone being dead, but suddenly tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. He would never have to worry about him. A weight lifted from his shoulders that he didn't even know was there.

"Mom, what happened to him?" he couldn't help the joy leaking from his voice.

"They say it was some animal," his mom said, thoughtfully, "Ripped him up completely. Except for his face. They said it was pretty lucky that his face stayed intact, that way they could identify him. Apparently, even his limbs were ripped off. I don't know what got him, but it must have been really hungry."

"Thanks for calling, mom," john said, and then he said good bye and hung up.

An animal attack? That didn't make any sense. Of course, his mom didn't realize that because she didn't know Mr. Larson was a vampire. Mr. Larson would've been strong enough to fight off any beast that came at him. _Except maybe another vampire, _john thought. He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. He heard the door open and looked up to see Sherlock enter the room. He waved at him, excitedly, ready to tell him the news.

"Sherlock," John grinned widely, "Mr. Larson is dead! They say some animal got him, but I figure it was another vampire."

"That's good news, John," Sherlock's voice was monotone as he crossed the room.

John looked at the vampire, curiously. He figured Sherlock would be happier. John shrugged. Well, obviously he wouldn't be as happy as John, since he wasn't really involved. John stretched his arms above his head as he yawned, exposing a thing strip of his stomach to Sherlock, who of course did not look at it at all. Sherlock opened a book that he had carried in with him. John hadn't realized he was carrying anything, he'd been so happy to see him. _To tell him the news, not to see him, _John corrected himself, blushing slightly.

As Sherlock buried his nose in the book. John tried to read the title. He couldn't see the whole thing, but he thought it said something about mythology on it. John shrugged again and checked the time. Even without seeing it was noon, John knew it was lunch time, by the rumbling in his stomach.

"Would you like to go to lunch?" he asked Sherlock.

"I don't eat," replied Sherlock, without even lifting his head.

"Oh, right, because of…yeah," John looked away nervously, "But you do, uh, drink, right?"

"Enough to keep me alive," Sherlock lifted his eyes and caught John's, "But I control my hunger. Do not fear. I will probably drink more now that you are here. Please, do not worry."

"Ok," John relaxed a bit, "I'm gonna go on down to eat."

Sherlock returned to his book and John took that to mean that he heard and understood. John left, wondering what may be in the cafeteria. He realized that he really wasn't worried about Sherlock drinking from him. He really believed Sherlock when he said he had it under control. John liked that feeling. He liked the feeling of trust. _Does this make us friends? _He wondered.

* * *

**Little note here: Thanks for the support and everything! Love you guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

"P-p-please?" John stuttered, his knees weak.

"P-p-please?" mocked the tall rugby player.

John had been on his way back to his room when he'd been stopped by three rugby players. He only knew they were rugby players because they were wearing their jerseys. John had tried to just go around them, but they blocked his way. He asked to pass and the middle one said "What's the magic word?" John didn't know what they wanted. He just wanted to go back to his room.

"You are pathetic," the middle one said (the others seemed to only be able to laugh), "I heard you already fainted twice. What are you a girl?"

His two goons joined him in snickering at John, who just wrung his hands, nervously. He shuffled his feet, staring at the ground. He didn't deal with humans very often and was unsure what to expect. If they'd been three vampires, he would easily assume that they would attack him. All he could do was helplessly wait as the rugby players decided their next move.

"Do you see this hallway?" the middle one spoke again, gesturing down the hall they blocked, "This is Baker Street. And guess what? I'm Drake Baker. Which means you're living on my street."

John looked hesitantly up at the massive boy and tried to figure out what he meant by that. John's brain wasn't working very fast and his hands were shaking. Drake seemed to think this was hilarious, as he began snickering again.

"Are you scared?" Drake took a step forward, "What's your name, dweeb?"

"J-j-john W-watson," John sputtered, staring at the floor.

"John Watson," the boy lifted John's chin up, "I think you need to pay your rent."

John blinked hard, knowing what would happen next (or rather, he had a pretty good idea). Drake's hand left his chin and pressed down on his shoulder. It wasn't hard for John's knees to give out and the banged to the floor within seconds. He squeezed his eyes shut, now knowing for sure what would happen. His brain went fuzzy as the sound of a zipper being undone seemed to echo through the hallway. John forced himself to think of something else, anything else as hard flesh was pushed into his mouth.

He didn't know why, but he thought of Sherlock. He thought of Sherlock's sharp cheek bones and lovely mouth. He thought of the way Sherlock looked at him with worry and the way his cool hand had been on his arm when he woke up from his panic attack. He thought of the way his dark curls shook when he looked up at John. He thought of the way they hung in his face a bit, as he read a book. He thought of how Sherlock's slender hands had untangled him from his sheets.

Pretty soon it was over. The rugby players left John in the hallway on his knees. John just stared into space filled with thoughts of Sherlock. He just knelt there; eyes squeezed closed, mouth ajar, thinking of Sherlock, only Sherlock. He finally realized it was over and shook himself slightly. He opened his eyes to the empty hallway and closed his mouth. He still felt half-dazed as he stood and walked to his room shakily. He opened the door and closed it, still staring into space, only now he was thinking nothing. He walked to his bed and sat, saying nothing to Sherlock, who had looked up from his book. It took him several minutes to realize that Sherlock was talking to him.

"What?" John said, turning emotionless eyes on Sherlock.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock's face and voice were filled with worry, "You're staring into space and you have saliva coming out of the corner of your mouth."

"I'm fine," John turned away and wiped the saliva away.

Sherlock breezed over to John and knelt in front of him. John just stared at him with the darkest, emptiest eyes Sherlock had ever seen. Sherlock knew that something had happened and he knew what it was. He could smell the boys on John. For some reason he felt tears come to his eyes. He felt that warmth spread through him again. Being dead for so long, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been warm before John. He touched John's knee and stood up briskly.

"I'll take care of it," he said and nodded.

Before John could ask what he was taking care of, Sherlock was gone. John suddenly woke up from his trance. Before he could even take a breath, his hands were shaking violently. He clasped them together tightly, trying to make them stop. He leaned forward, putting his head between his knees. He suddenly could taste the boys on his tongue and feel their hands on his head, their fingers in his hair. He sputtered and gagged, trying to get the taste from his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face as he gripped his knees, trying to focus on something, anything, but his eyes went fuzzy and he could barely see.

"I'm here, John," he could barely hear the steady baritone calling out to him, "It's ok."

Suddenly there were strong, thin arms holding him. He felt himself being lifted and settled onto soft, but slightly boney legs. His face was pressed into the folds of a nice black shirt, with buttons down the front. A hand touched his face gently. It was a thin, pale hand that was cool as ice. John's breathing slowed and became steady.

"That's it, John," Sherlock whispered, "Focus on me. I'm right here. You're going to be ok."

Sherlock kept whispering in that lovely baritone voice as John slowly came back to the world. His body quit shaking and his hands followed suit soon after. He found himself clutching to Sherlock, his shirt held tight in his fists. His tears eventually stopped and his eyes cleared, but he still held tight to Sherlock, who stroked his hair and whispered to him for as long as John held on to him.

"You can let go when you're ready, John," Sherlock said, soothingly.

"O-ok," John whispered.

But he didn't let go. He felt like he would never let go. He felt like he could live like this. He could eat, sleep, and breathe clinging to Sherlock. He closed his eyes and relaxed slightly against Sherlock. Sherlock only paused in his stroking for a moment and then continued. They stayed like that, neither talking, just holding on to one another. John started drifting off to sleep, the constant stroking to his hair calming him entirely. Right before he slipped into sleep, he could have sworn he felt Sherlock press a kiss to his head. _But that's just silly…_his thoughts whispered before sleep overtook him.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock watched the smaller body, with a fascination he'd never had before. He was completely unaware of his hand moving back and forth on John's blonde head. He just stared at the boy as he relaxed. He became aware that his shirt was clutched in John's fists. Normally, he would have been appalled at such a rumpling of his shirt, but at this moment all he cared about was John.

"You can let go when you're ready," Sherlock said, hoping John would never be ready.

"O-ok," John had whispered.

But he didn't let go. He hung on tight to Sherlock and Sherlock loved it. He could feel John's heart beat and breath. He could smell the citrus shampoo that John used and the ordinary deodorant that he applied lightly. There wasn't much to this boy, but Sherlock found every detail intriguing and wonderful. He heard John's breath becoming deeper and steadier. _He's falling asleep, _Sherlock thought. Then, before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to John's head. He saw John smile lightly and could tell he was about to completely fall asleep. John's hands relaxed and slithered down Sherlock's torso. Sherlock shivered, as something sparked inside of him. Suddenly, he felt pleasantly warm all over. He decided he liked the feeling.

* * *

When John woke up the next morning he expected to feel warm. He expected to feel Sherlock holding him. But he didn't, because some time during the night, Sherlock had laid him down and gotten up. He shivered at the lack of warmth and curled up into a ball. _Why did I think he would be here? _John scolded himself for being stupid and rolled out of bed.

"Good morning, John," Sherlock's baritone voice made him jump.

"Ah! O-oh," John blushed furiously, "G-good morning, Sh-sherlock."

Sherlock didn't look up from his large, dusty looking book. John peeked at the cover and only saw ornate drawings in golden ink. He walked up behind Sherlock and read over his bony shoulder.

"_A connection may be made with a human. This connection has only been known as a Link. Little is known about Links as few vampires are willing to share details. However, it is known that when a link is formed, the vampire will feel a warmth spread through them. The first time this happens, the vampire will have helped the human in some way and then locked eyes with them. At this point the heat will fill the vampire up to the point of breathlessness. If the Link is also accompanied with a Compassion Link, then it will be even stronger. The vampire will feel compelled to do anything they think is necessary to make the human happy. There is rumor that if the human rejects the vampire, the vampire will cease to exist. Though this has not been confirmed, it is known that this will be the strongest force to the vampire. The vampire will have no will to fight the human and will have to do anything they feel necessary for the human. If the Link is not accompanied with the Compassion Link, the vampire will still feel strongly motivated to help the human in any way possible. However, the force is less strong…"_

Suddenly, the book snapped closed and John jumped violently. Sherlock was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. John stumbled backwards, away from Sherlock.

"S-sorry," John sputtered, "I w-was just c-curious what y-you were r-reading."

"No need to be sorry," Sherlock said, soothingly, "It's just some vampiric mythology that I'm reading up on."

He got up and adjusted his shirt, brushing away some invisible dirt.

"D-do y-you h-have one?" John could barely control the words.

"Have one what?" Sherlock questioned.

"A L-link," John gestured to the book.

"Links are very rare, John," Sherlock stated, "Hurry and get ready. We have classes."

John obeyed Sherlock, quickly showering a dressing. He wondered why Sherlock hadn't answered his question. _Maybe he does have one and he's embarrassed, _john thought. He shrugged. Sounded like a vampire thing. He quickly joined Sherlock back in their room.

"Ready?" Sherlock cocked his head at John.

"Y-yes," John nodded.

They grabbed their bookbags and left quietly. John wasn't really sure where they were going, but Sherlock seemed to know, so he just followed him. Neither said anything as John tried to keep up with Sherlock's incredibly long strides. When they did arrive at their first class, Sherlock abruptly stopped and John almost kept going.

"I had the administration make our classes the same," Sherlock informed him, "So that I can be there if you have an attack."

"O-oh," John wasn't sure what to say, "Th-thanks."

Sherlock glanced at him and then swiftly opened the classroom door. He breezed, into the room, leading John to the very back. He sat with a thump in the farthest chair on the right and gestured for John to sit in the empty seat next to him. John sat quietly placing his bag on the floor.

They had arrived long before class was supposed to start, so they were left to sit quietly with their thoughts as the room slowly filled with students. Sherlock pulled out the big, dusty book and set to reading, leaving John to stare into space having thoughtless time. He was grateful to have this time to do and think nothing. However, it was short lived as he heard his name being called.

"John Watson," came a gruff, nervous voice.

"Wh-what?" John startled out of his trance.

He looked up to see the three rugby players from yesterday standing in a huddle near his desk. They were all shuffling nervously, their gazes flitting to John's right and back to John. He shrank back in his chair wondering what they could possibly want. He noticed that it looked like they'd been in a fight. The middle one had his arm in a sling and had a black eye. He also had a pretty nasty looking cut on his lip. Furthermore it looked like his ribs were hurting him. The other two sported similar bruises and cuts, but didn't seem as beat up as Drake.

"We're sorry," Drake stated.

"Wh-wh-wh," John took a breath, "Wh-what?"

"We're sorry for yesterday," Drake glanced over to John's right again, "We realize how wrong it was of us to do such a thing. We apologize and if there is anything we can do for you, let us know."

The two goons nodded at John, solemnly, confirming Drake's story.

"O-o-ok," John mumbled.

The boys looked to John's right and then turned around and walked to their seats. They sat down and didn't look back to John again. John couldn't help but stare in confusion. _Why would they do that? _He pondered. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Humans were so confusing. He sighed, wishing he could just have a normal life. _Maybe a nice, unsucky life, _he mused. He shrugged and laid his head on the desk, _no use wishing for what you can't have._

* * *

**Little note: I know I usually have more space between updates, but I had to get this chapter out. Please review! It means a lot to me and all other authors for that matter. Thanks for your continued support!**


	8. Chapter 8

John listened lazily to the teacher, trying his best to take notes. He found it very hard, because he was extremely tired. He kept falling asleep on his hand and almost falling out of his chair. Finally, when first class was over, he was able to go to the hall and try to wake himself up. Sherlock waited with him while he slapped his face a couple of times.

"S-sorry, Sh-sherlock," John mumbled, yawning a bit, "I'm s-so t-tired."

"It's fine, John," Sherlock replied.

Some papers slipped from one of the books in Sherlock's arms. John took a step to help him, but just as he did Sherlock bent to pick them up. His rear end waggled right in front of John, as he picked up the papers. _Wow, that is a nice ass, _John thought, before he could stop himself. As the heat crept into his crotch, it also crept into his face. Suddenly, he was _very_ awake. He couldn't help the flood of images that barraged his mind. His blush deepened as Sherlock turned to face him. His eyes snapped to the floor.

"Are you ready to go to second hour?" Sherlock questioned.

"Y-y-y-yes," John stammered.

Sherlock turned on his heel and led John away, towards their next class. _Am I gay? _He suddenly questioned himself. He'd never even thought about it before. He'd never asked himself this simple question: _am I gay? _He'd never looked at a guy before, in that way. But then again he'd never looked at girl in that way either. _Am I gay? Am I gay? Am I gay? _The questioned rolled through his mind, over and over again. _Well, the way I just reacted to Sherlock….that means I'm gay, right? Or is it just because it's Sherlock? Maybe he has some sort of spell on me? Nah, he's a vampire not a witch. Besides, he's been so nice….is he gay? Does he like me? Oh my goodness, does he look at my ass too? Wait, I don't look at his ass, I just happened to see it….but it was very nice. Does Sherlock think my ass is nice? Do I want him to think my ass is nice?_

"John Watson!" Sherlock shouted.

John startled out of his thoughts and bumped into Sherlock, who had stopped and turned to face John. John blushed profusely and backed off a few steps.

"I thought I'd lost you again," breathed Sherlock.

"S-s-sorry," John stuttered, "I w-was j-just th-thinking."

"It's ok," Sherlock reached out and took John's hand, "I just worry about you is all. Just tell me if you feel an attack coming on, ok?"

"Y-y-yes, Sh-sherlock," John felt like a dog, or a child.

Sherlock briskly released his hand and started off at his quick pace once again. John practically had to run to keep up with him. _I haven't even stopped to wonder about sex or kissing or anything, _John thought to himself, _there's just been so much stuff all the time that I never…so I'm gay…I wonder if Sherlock is…maybe I could ask him. But that's weird just randomly asking if he's gay. Maybe I could just ask if he has a girlfriend, then he might just say he's gay…or maybe he won't. What if he's not? _John stopped his racing mind and firmly told himself _Sherlock is a vampire. He said he never wanted me to forget that. It doesn't fucking matter if he's gay or straight. He's a fucking vampire! _Somehow, this didn't make him feel better.

Finally, Sherlock stopped outside of another classroom. He opened the door and held it for john. John hurried through it, but he could have sworn he heard Sherlock take a very deep breath through his nose. He paused, only to have Sherlock gently push him the rest of the way through the doorway. John shrugged and continued into the class. Sherlock once again led him to the back of the class. John was pretty sure that they'd sit in the back in all their classes.

Class seemed to zoom by quickly and the teacher left them to talk for the rest of the hour, as she tapped at her keyboard. John laid his head down facing Sherlock. Sherlock lazily looked over to him, one eyebrow raised. John couldn't help but smile at him and Sherlock mirrored the expression.

"So, Sh-sherlock, do y-you have a g-girlfriend?" John asked.

_Why the fucking fuck did I ask him that?_

"No," Sherlock replied calmly, "Some may say that I play for a different team."

"O-oh, s-so you're g-gay?" John's heart thumped awkwardly against his chest.

"Yes," Sherlock answered.

"O-o-oh, th-that's f-f-f-fine, y-you kn-know," John's heart threatened to break out of him, "I m-mean I d-don't m-mind."

"Good to know," Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him.

John blushed and buried his head in his arms. _God, am I stupid. Why in the world…what the hell is wrong with me? Stop it, heart! You're breaking my ribs! Dammit, dammit, dammit! It doesn't matter if he's gay or straight! he's got one of those Link things with someone….besides, he's a vampire. Vampires don't have crushes. Vampires don't like-like someone. Vampires just eat and rape and kill and hate. And it doesn't matter how goddam beautiful their blue eyes are!_

* * *

**Little note: I know, I know! Not much progress in the plot, but this chapter was definitely necessary! Thanks for continuing to read and review! Love you guys!**


	9. Chapter 9

Over the course of the next few days, John starting noticing things about Sherlock that he loved. And he hated that he loved these things. Like the way his long, slender legs would stretch out under his desk, when he was bored. Or the way his wonderful dark curls fell in his face when he leaned over a book. The way his sleepy eyes looked up at John through those long, dark eyelashes.

John rubbed his face furiously, as though this would relieve him of these thoughts. He flopped sideways, onto his bed and sighed loudly. _Where is Sherlock, anyway? _He wondered. He was always getting up and leaving suddenly. _Maybe he's eating? _John shuddered at that thought and rolled over onto his back. _I really wish he would get back already, _john thought miserably. He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned for thinking such a thing.

Suddenly, as though hearing John's silent wish, Sherlock burst through the door. This startled John badly and he sat bolt upright. He relaxed at the sight of his roommate, who was trying to conceal the excitement on his face. He slammed their door shut and bounded (yes, bounded) toward John. John couldn't help the big, stupid smile that lit up his face, when he saw how excited Sherlock was.

"John, John!" Sherlock knelt by his bed, opening the bag he had with him, "Close your eyes, John!"

John swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat facing Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow at the kneeling vampire and then closed his eyes. He heard some rustling and the sound of Sherlock settling on the floor. _What in the world is he doing? _John's curiosity spiked higher than it had in years.

"Ok, open, open!" Sherlock said, his voice filled joy and excitement.

John slowly opened his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. What he saw was the funniest and the hottest thing he had ever seen. Sherlock was on all fours in front of him and…

"A-are those d-doggy e-ears?" John could barely contain the laughter bubbling up inside him.

"Do you like them?" Sherlock smirked, "I've got a tail too."

He then wiggled his butt, showing off the dog tail attached to his jeans. John sucked in a breath. _Oh god, that is the hottest thing ever…._He shook his head and laughed as Sherlock "wagged his tail" for his benefit. Seeing graceful, sophisticated, beautiful Sherlock, down on the ground dressed as a dog, was enough to send anyone into a laughing fit. John clutched his stomach as the laughter belted out of him. Sure, he had a boner, but that didn't stop him from laughing his ass off at Sherlock reduced to such a silly thing. Sherlock grinned up at him, the dog ears hanging in his forehead.

"Sh-sherlock!" John giggled, "Y-you a-are so c-crazy!"

At this precise moment Sherlock barked. He _barked. _As in "woof, woof". John was so startled he stopped laughing to stare at Sherlock, who cocked his head and let his tongue hang out. _Oh my lord _was the only thought John could manage. John's heart was suddenly thumping against his ribs and there was a painful heat between his legs. He giggled again, suddenly feeling light-headed. Then something happened that neither was prepared for. John leaned forward and petted Sherlock on the head. He giggled and laid his head on his own knee, looking at Sherlock, who was so shocked he forgot what he was doing. John felt loopy and dizzy, as he giggled at Sherlock. Sherlock suddenly snapped back to reality and continued his dog act. _He loves, he loves it! _Sherlock thought, excitedly. He let his tongue fall out and he panted heavily, trying to make John as happy as possible. He nudged John's hand with his head and looked up at him, hopefully. John giggled and petted Sherlock's head again, this time much longer than last time.

"Y-you're a g-g-good d-doggy, Sh-sherlock," John giggled.

Sherlock had heat rise between his legs at John's petting. _Whoa, stop it! This is for John you stupid body! Goddamn transport! _He thought angrily, but he kept up the act, now pawing at John's leg. John laughed and lifted his head, patting the space next to him on the bed. Sherlock obliged immediately, jumping onto the bed and nuzzling John's side. He hesitated slightly, before laying his head in John's lap. John grinned widely at him and stoked his hair. Sherlock practically purred at the attention being given, but he remembered he was a dog, not a cat. He snuggled into John, who laughed softly and continued stroking his hair.

"Y-you d-did this j-just f-for m-me," John whispered, "D-didn't y-you?"

Sherlock looked up at John, blushing slightly and nodded. John's heart started thumping in that painful way again and he just smiled down at Sherlock, who smiled back. Unfortunately, the lovely moment was ruined by John yawning widely. Sherlock shifted off of his lap much to his displeasure.

"I-it's o-ok," John blushed, "I-I'm just a b-bit t-tired."

Sherlock prodded him, gesturing for him to lie down. John obeyed Sherlock's silent command, without hesitation. After he was lying on his side, Sherlock crawled up next to him, pressing himself close, to warm John's body. John blushed and put an arm around Sherlock. He closed his eyes and snuggled into Sherlock's surprisingly warm body. _I hope he doesn't feel that….uh…._john blushed harder and shifted his leg, to cover the slight erection. He then relaxed and started drifting into sleep.

"Don't leave," John whispered, barely conscience, "Stay until morning."

And with that, he fell into a deep sleep, leaving Sherlock to stare at him in bewilderment. _He wants me to stay? Until morning…he said that, didn't he? _Sherlock's heart started thumping awkwardly against his chest. It was painful and he repeatedly told it to shut up, but it didn't, not as long as he stared at John's sleeping face.


	10. Chapter 10

John expected to wake up in a cold bed, grasping at his sheets for what wouldn't be there. However, when he woke his arms were around Sherlock and he was warm. _Very _warm. Particularly between the legs. He realized his nice, untimely erection was poking Sherlock in the thigh. _How is he not awake with that poking him the leg! I wouldn't be surprised if it started to draw blood…_John started panicking and blushed profusely, but as he tried to untangle himself, Sherlock held him tight.

"No, no," Sherlock mumbled into John, "Please stay awhile, _master._"

John's cock twitched painfully as Sherlock smirked out the last word. _Oh god, I could get used to this. No! No! Stop! _John mentally shook himself, while trying to shift his erection away from Sherlock. Sherlock snuggled deeper into John's chest and opened his mouth to say something. He suddenly froze and his eyes snapped open.

"Oh," Sherlock annunciated the vowel very carefully.

"S-s-sorry," John sputtered, awkwardly.

John was blushing heavily, but Sherlock just giggled.

"It's ok," Sherlock breathed, "It's normal. It's a morning thing. I don't mind at all. Would you like me to…."

"Yesssss," John hissed into Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock sleepily slithered down John's body. He carefully started readjusting himself and John so that he could properly get at John's straining erection.

"N-n-n-no!" John pushed Sherlock away, "I w-was j-just t-tired."

John leapt away from Sherlock and ran for the bathroom. He glanced back at Sherlock. Sherlock was sprawled out on the bed, the dog ears still hanging in his forehead. This didn't help John's erection at all. He ran in the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He locked it behind him and slid to the floor. He scooted as far from the door and Sherlock as he could. He put his knees to his chest and buried his face in them.

"Ughhh," he groaned.

_He's a vampire, you dipshit! He's a bloody vampire! He doesn't feel, he doesn't care! He's a goddam vampire! Why am I like this? What the hell is wrong with me? He doesn't care! _John's hands started shaking and tears leaked from his eyes. _But the dog ears…No! That was just folly! He was just messing with me! None of them care about anyone! They're all murders and awful and horrible! I hate them all! I hate them, hate them hate them hate them hate them hate them….._

John's body shook and he fell sideways, sobbing uncontrollably. The first vampire flashed before his eyes and he cried out, but he couldn't hear his own scream. He thrashed around, telling him to get away from him. He felt teeth biting into him. He shrieked in pain and writhed around, trying to get away. He heard a loud bang noise and he looked around, crying harder. He saw Sherlock rushing towards him. He covered his face and screamed into his hands, totally out of his mind now.

"John! John! John!" Sherlock's voice shouted at him, "Wake up, John! John, please! John come back!"

"I hate them," John whispered.

"I hate them!" he shouted.

"ihatethemihatethemihatethemihatethem," John's eyes were completely blinded and he kept whispering as Sherlock tried to rouse him.

"John, come on, I'm here," Sherlock felt liquid on his face, "I'm here. Please! John! Please, John! I-I love y-you, ok? So wake up, wake up!"

Sherlock touched his own cheek and looked at his tears in bewilderment. He shook john gently shrieking at him to wake up out of his trance. But he didn't. John passed out, eventually. Sherlock cried into John's hair. He squeezed john tightly.

"Why do I have to love you?" Sherlock whispered into John's beautiful blonde hair, "You'll never love me. Never."

* * *

When John woke up he was in his own bed, wrapped up in his own sheets.

"Sh-sherlock?" he called, before he could even think or see.

"Here," Sherlock was suddenly at John's side.

"G-g-good," John whispered, "I'm s-s-sorry."

"It's ok," Sherlock whispered back.

He laid his head down on John's bed. John peeked down at Sherlock's curly mop. _He's still got on the doggy ears _John smiled at the thought. He reached down and petted Sherlock's head. Sherlock looked up at John bashfully. John grinned at Sherlock who grinned back.

"John," Sherlock whispered, "I can always be like this. If you want. If it makes you more comfortable. I could…."

Sherlock paused, as though evaluating how his next comment would change the rest of his life. He decided that he liked the consequences better than not.

"I could be your dog."

And those five little words woke John up completely. Five simple words. Five little words, that separately meant nothing, but together meant the world. Suddenly, Sherlock wasn't one of them. He wasn't a vampire. He was…._a dog? He's a human. He wants me to be happy. He wants me to be happy. He's not a vampire! He's completely different…he's not a vampire….he just isn't…._John smiled softly down at Sherlock.

"I would like that very much, Sherlock," John said in the clearest, loveliest voice Sherlock had ever heard.

* * *

**Little note: Love you guys! I want to specifically shout out to starrysummernights. You are the best fan ever! I love getting your reviews every chapter! :) And to Vicktory and moriah93ohio, thank you for your multiple reviews as well! Not that I don't love the rest of you, but people who make a special effort, get a special effort in return. So thank you all! Thanks to everyone who is following! Seriously, I never thought that my story would be followed by so many people. I love you guys and thank you for encouraging me to keep on going!**


	11. Chapter 11

The next week passed with little incident. During class, John and Sherlock would take notes and participate in class activities. Of course, John often stared into space and had to be prodded by Sherlock. But other than that, classes went smoothly. John smiled and laughed easily and his hands didn't shake once. Back in there room it was a whole different story. As soon as they stepped in the door and closed it, Sherlock would don on the dog ears and tail and sit on the floor, while John sat at his desk. And that is how they'd do homework, Sherlock on the floor, near John's feet and John at the desk. Once in a while, John would reach down and pet Sherlock's head (much to Sherlock's delight). And every night, Sherlock would curl up next to John and keep him warm.

When Friday rolled around, John was exhausted. All he wanted was to curl up in his bed with Sherlock and sleep for a very long time. However, Sherlock said he had some place to be. _Why is he always leaving? Where does he go? _John wondered as he dragged his feet to their room. When he got there, he noticed an envelope stuck in the door. It had his name on it. He pulled it out of the door and read the return address as he opened the door.

"M-mom?" John questioned the envelope.

He quickly tore it open and slid out two pieces of paper. One was a note and the other was a newspaper article. The note read:

_Dear Johnny,_

_ I just thought that you would like this article about Mr. Larson's death. I know it might be sick of me, but I am so glad that he is dead and I am keeping a copy of the article to signify that things can get better. I suppose you could just throw it away, if you don't want it._

_ Love,_

_ Mom_

John shrugged his shoulders and unfolded the newspaper article. It only said what he already knew. _Animal attack, yada, yada. Oh, it says that the caller didn't give a name, but simply said that he was a concerned citizen that felt that the menace should be reported….concerned citizen? Wait. I know that no animal could kill him…only another vampire….this happened right after I told Sherlock….wait a minute. He jumped up and left right after I told him! He asked what he looked like….oh my god…he…Sherlock killed Mr. Larson. He killed him…for me?_

John stared at the article in his hand, in disbelief. _Sherlock killed Mr. Larson. I can't believe he did that…_John was sure, without a doubt, that Sherlock had killed Mr. Larson. He didn't know whether to be happy or mad or sad. All he could feel was his heart thumping against his chest. _And the boys….he said he'd take care of it and they were all beat up….He did that for me…why would he do that? _A little voice piped up and said _because he's human. _John felt hot tears stream down his face, as he continued to stare at the article.

"H-he w-was s-saving me," John mumbled as he cried softly.

John wiped away the tears and shook himself. _Maybe he did, maybe he didn't….He did. I know he did…._john laid the article and his mom's note on his bed and went to the bathroom. He turned on the sink and splashed water in his face. He dried his face with the hand towel and looked up. He jumped in surprise when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He squinted at the boy in the mirror, the boy squinted back. he touched his face and the boy in the mirror also touched his.

"Th-that's m-me?" John asked in bewilderment.

It had been so long since he had look in a mirror that he couldn't even remember when it was. He turned his face to the side, watching his own blue eyes watching him. His hair was shaggy and hung on his forehead. He never noticed how long it had gotten or how blonde it was. He traced the worry wrinkles on his forehead and thin white scar that crossed his jawbone. He didn't even know he had a scar. He prodded too pale face and turn from side to side, examining it very closely. He suddenly was very conscience of his appearance. _Wow, I am so ugly. I'm nowhere near as attractive as Sherlock. I don't even have cheekbones. _

John lamented his appearance, particularly paying attention to his cracked lips. He ran his fingers over them, wishing they were as soft as Sherlock's. He blushed at knowing what Sherlock's lips were like. He closed his eyes and ran his finger back over his lips, imagining it was Sherlock.

"Shh, John," Sherlock's voice whispered to him, "I'll take care of you.

"O-o-ok," John mumbled.

Dream Sherlock leaned down and placed his soft lips on John's. He wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close, pushing his tongue against John's lips. John opened his mouth obediently, allowing Sherlock's tongue to snake through and taste John's. John's hands found their way to Sherlock's shoulders, gripping tightly, trying to hang on with all he was worth. He was on tip-toes trying to reach tall Sherlock's mouth.

"John!" a voice shouted and a hand gently slapped his face.

"Wh-wh-what?" John sputtered, coming out of the daydream.

"Hey," Sherlock's face came into view, "You ok?"

"F-f-fine," John blushed.

He became aware that Sherlock's hands were on his arms. He blushed harder and pulled away, remembering the article and how he was going to ask Sherlock about it. He went around Sherlock and into their room. He noticed a stack of books on Sherlock's desk and a tent in his pants, practically at the same time. He hated the heat in his face and he tried to will it away. He walked to his bed and sat down, picking up the article. Sherlock came out of the bathroom and pulled out the dog ears and tail. He put them on and sat at John's feet.

"Sh-sherlock," John couldn't look at him, "Y-you did th-this d-didn't y-you?"

He handed Sherlock the article. Sherlock scanned it and returned it quickly.

"Yes," he responded calmly.

"A-and th-the b-boys," John wiped his sweaty palms on his knees, "Y-you b-b-beat them up, d-didn't you?"

"Yes," Sherlock answered.

"Wh-why?" john looked into Sherlock's blue gray eyes.

"I want you to be happy," Sherlock looked down at his hands, "I thought that it would make you happy."

"Th-th-thank y-you," John petted Sherlock's hair, "y-you a-are the b-best friend I-I've ever h-had."

Sherlock smiled up at him in pure joy and delight at John's happiness and care. He nuzzled his face into John's leg. John giggled lightly at Sherlock's nuzzles. He swung his legs up and lay down on his bed. Sherlock climbed up and snuggled into him. Soon john was quickly falling asleep. Sherlock watched as John's face relaxed into a small smile and his breathing became deeper.

"What were you daydreaming about earlier?" Sherlock asked, as he often did as John was falling asleep (he knew he'd get a clear, honest answer if he did).

"You," John sighed, "You were kissing me. It was really nice."

"Would you like me to kiss you now?" Sherlock's heart thumped hard against his chest.

"Yes," was John's sleepy reply.

Sherlock gently pressed his lips to John's, loving the way they felt rough against his. He pulled away and sighed, wishing John was awake so he could kiss back.

"Thanks, Sherlock," John whispered.

"You're welcome," Sherlock replied, "I love you."

"Mmm," John snuggled deeper into Sherlock.

And with that, he fell asleep, leaving Sherlock very disappointed. Sherlock wished with all his dead heart, that John would love him. But he knew wishes didn't come true. He knew he was stuck stealing kisses as John fell asleep and snuggling up close to him. _That is the extent to which John will allow me to touch him and love him. I will never feel what it's like to actually kiss John Watson. But it didn't matter, as long as I can be near him…yes, that will have to be enough…_


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock's baritone voice moaned into John's ear. John shivered and turned to Sherlock, looking deep into his grey-blue eyes. Sherlock stared back with an intensity that John had never seen before. John reached out a hand and gently touched Sherlock's soft, messy curls. Sherlock smiled widely and pressed his face into John's palm. John kissed Sherlock's forehead, his eyes closing briefly. He leaned his forehead into Sherlock's, smiling softly at him. Suddenly, Sherlock leaned his head upwards and licked John's face from his jaw to his temple. John giggled softly, ignoring the erection pressing at his pants.

"John? John?" Sherlock's baritone voice sounded against John's temple, but when he looked to Sherlock the only thing coming out of his mouth was his tongue, as he painted heavily.

"Wh-what?" John sputtered confused.

"Open your eyes, John," Sherlock's voice prompted him.

"M-my eyes a-a-are-," John stopped as he realized his eyes _were _closed.

But he didn't want to. If he opened his eyes he would lose this beautiful dream of his puppy Sherlock. He firmly shook his head as he felt the blush creep up on his face. He sighed heavily and opened his eyes. Sherlock was staring at him concern. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock sleepily.

"You were, uh," Sherlock looked away from John for s moment, "Talking in your sleep."

"O-o-oh, s-s-sorry," John looked away and blushed harder, "Wh-what d-did I s-say?"

"You said," Sherlock paused, "You said "Ooh, Sherlock, you're such a good puppy." And "Oh, you silly puppy." And "Sherlock, are you giving me kisses?" and "That's good Sherlock, yes, very good. Goooood dog, yesss. Good Sherlock. Yessss." I just thought maybe you would want to wake up before you said any more…."

Both boys suddenly found every place but each other's faces very fascinating. John was working up the courage to speak or sputter out an apology. Sherlock was awkwardly trying to hide his prominent erection from a very flustered John. It had taken all of his sense of morality to wake John up. He could of spent the rest of his life listening to John moan his name so sensually. He wanted to lay there and hear his name on those beautiful pink lips forever, but he knew he had to wake John up. He knew it was wrong to allow such a thing.

"S-s-s-sorry," John said tearfully, "I-I'm s-so s-s-so s-s-sorry. Y-you m-must b-be so e-embarrassed."

John squirmed away from Sherlock. He had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. All he wanted to do was run and hide and die. He managed to slither off the bed and make it to the bathroom. He closed the door and buried his face in his hands. _I am so stupid. I am so so stupid. What did you think, subconscious that he would love it and want you? You are so so so so stupid! He's a goddam vampire, you idiot. _He rubbed his face and went to the sink. He splashed some water on his face and scrubbed it a bit before drying his face on the hand towel.

John checked the time on his phone and realized he had very little time before classes started. He put the seat down on the toilet and sat down to clear his head, though it was completely void of any thought. Meanwhile, Sherlock was still lying in John's bed, wondering why he should be embarrassed. _John said I must be embarrassed. Why would I be embarrassed? Oh. Did he feel my…? _Sherlock didn't think he could pale any further than he already was. He was a vampire for Pete's sake; you can't get much paler than that. He slowly untangled himself from John's sheets and stood, rather shakily. He fingered the dog ears hanging over his forehead.

He felt something hot on his cheek and decided to ignore the liquid trailing down his face. He grabbed his bag and stuffed some of the books of his desk in it. He grabbed a notebook off his bed and hurriedly ran to the door. He stopped for a moment, remembering John and rushed to the bathroom door. He knocked softly.

"Are you ok, John?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Yes," John's voice was muffled by the door.

"My number is in your phone," Sherlock pawed at the door softly, "If you need anything, call me or text me. Anything, John. It doesn't matter what it is, ok? I have to go for a bit. I won't be in class. I-I have to go figure some things out."

Sherlock paused, waiting for a response. John wasn't sure what he wanted to hear. He didn't know what he wanted to say. So he just stayed silent. Sherlock took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the door.

"My body reacted in the way that it did," Sherlock took another breath, "Because I love you. It's that thing. The Link. I have one with you. I don't know what all that means, except that I love you. I know it's only been a week and a half, but I love you. Sorry. I know that makes you uncomfortable. I'm really sorry, but I really do love you."

Before John had time to process what Sherlock had said to him, Sherlock had fled. John ran to the bathroom door and threw it open, only to find an empty room. He ran to the hall door, but couldn't see Sherlock anywhere. He knew there was no way he could catch Sherlock. It was hopeless. He just let the most amazing thing in his life slip through his fingers. _I am utterly hopeless. I have got to find him._

Without a single thought to class, he quickly ran from his room, wondering where Sherlock would go. As he ran through the hall, he didn't see Sherlock anywhere. He had to assume he left the school. _He did say he needed to figure things out. So I guess he would leave the school, right? _John ran to the library, just in case, but saw that Sherlock wasn't there. _He must have gone home….wait, where does he live? I don't even know where he lives! _John smacked his forehead, trying to remember if Sherlock had ever mentioned home before. _No, we've barely talked at all about him…_John wished now that he has asked Sherlock more about himself.

He went to the exit and quickly slipped out of the school. _Maybe he'll still be down the street somewhere. _John frantically looked up and down the street, unsure of which way Sherlock would have gone. He hurried down the left side of the street just because he had no idea what he was doing. He found a payphone and quickly opened the telephone book hanging from it. He knew that it would probably be no help at all, but he fervently hoped that the H page of the book was not ripped out. He couldn't believe his luck as he spotted "Holmes" on the page.

"H-holmes, S-siger and V-violet," John whispered, "Th-that has g-got to be his p-parents."

He read the address and memorized it. He pictured a map of London in his mind and tried his best to think of how to get there. Once he got a vague idea, he started running toward what he saw as the most important thing in the entire world; he ran to his best friend, his love, and his puppy. He maneuvered the streets of London in what he thought was careful skill. Unfortunately, as he paused for a breath, clutching the stitch in his side, he realized he didn't know where he was. He looked at nearest street sign.

"M-m-m-m-melr-r-r-rose?" John sputtered in confusion.

_Melrose? Where the bloody fuck is Melrose? _John turned around and headed back the way he came. He looked at the street names, not recognizing any of them. He tried to picture is route again, but his hands were shaking from panic. He went down a street he thought was familiar, only to end up even more lost. He stopped at an alley and took some deep breaths. He looked up and down the street, but his vision blurred. He leaned against the brick building, hardly able to keep his mind calm.

_ "My number is in your phone. If you need anything, call me." _Sherlock's sweet voice filled his ears.

He reached for his phone, which was thankfully in his pocket. _Must have slept with it. _John thought vaguely as he laughed nervously. His breath was coming in short pants and he was partly bent over, holding the stitch in his side. His fingers fumbled over the keys as he searched for Sherlock in his contact book. Finally he found the blissful name "Sherlock Holmes" and barked a laugh in triumph. He quickly hit the call button. It rang three times and then it clicked as Sherlock answered it.

"John?" Sherlock questioned.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh," John took a deep breath and calmed himself slightly, "Sherlock."

"I'm on my way," Sherlock replied and the phone clicked.

John brought the phone away from his ear and stared at it in confusion. _I didn't even say what was wrong. _John thought. He slowly closed the phone and slid down the wall. He still panted heavily, unable to catch his breath. He put his hand on his heart, willing it to slow its beating. It blatantly refused (it was a very defiant heart). He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't know why and he couldn't explain it, but he was sure that Sherlock would be there soon. He knew without a doubt that Sherlock would find him.

* * *

**Little Note: Hey, guys. I'm a little afraid that this is a bit rushed. I think it works good, but I would love to hear what you all think. So if I get enough saying it's too rushed, I'm going to go back and revise. If it's good how it is, then yay me! Anyway, thank you for all your support and love ya'll! I love you guys, you keep me going!**


	13. Chapter 13

John's breath and heartbeat slowed down gradually. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look at how lost he was. All he wanted to see was Sherlock. Time seemed to move sluggishly as he sat there waiting for Sherlock. He felt himself drifted into sleep and he shook his head violently.

"G-g-gotta s-stay a-awake," he muttered.

"That you do, my dear," came a soft voice from above him.

His eyes snapped open and he pressed himself close to the wall. A tall, pale man stood before him. He had jet black hair that swept passed his shoulders in long, straight waves. The man's black eyes stared into John's. His lips curled up into a nasty smile that had John's hands shaking. _Why are they always around? I can't seem to get rid of these goddam vampires! _John thought in frustration. He took a few deep breaths and glared at the man.

"Y-y-you b-better s-stay away," He said boldly, "M-m-my f-friend will k-k-kill y-you if you h-hurt me."

The vampire laughed breezily at the bold young boy below him.

"Your friend will kill me?" the vampire mused, "Well, I hope he's very strong, because I'm not going down without a fight."

"H-h-he's k-killed b-before," John snarled at him.

The vampire's smile vanished and a fire lit in his eyes. He growled at the annoying blonde boy.

"I happen to be one of the oldest vampires around, boy," the vampire growled, "You should feel lucky that I have chosen you, boy. You will live with me."

"N-n-no I w-won't!" yelled John.

He stood up, clenching his shaking hands into fists and glowering at the vampire.

"I-i-I am s-so s-sick of th-this!" he yelled, "Y-you a-all th-think y-you c-can have m-me b-because I-I t-taste g-good or-or wh-whatev-ever. I-I'm n-not m-m-meat! I-I a-am a-a-a p-person!"

The vampire's frown deepened. He didn't like how defiant this human was being. He growled and bared his elongated fangs at John. John's heart threatened to explode and he felt tears in his eyes, but he stood his ground. The vampire lunged at him and bit roughly into his shoulder. John screamed in pain and the vampire gripped his arms tightly. John's vision was blurred and he could hardly see.

Suddenly there was a low animalistic growl and the vampire was flung from John. John crumpled and curled up, unable to see clearly. He saw dark shapes moving around and heard lots of snarls and growls. Finally there was a loud thump and that seemed to signal the end of it.

"I'll let you live so you can tell everyone that this human is to be left alone!"

John's head cleared slightly at the sound of Sherlock's voice.

"Let it be known," Sherlock said lowly, "That if he is ever touched by another vampire, they will die."

There was the sound of someone scrambling away. John's vision cleared a bit and he was able to see Sherlock's tall form standing near him. Sherlock suddenly swooped down on him. John tried to make his voice work, but his mouth just opened and closed as tears streamed down his face. Sherlock lifted him up slightly and pulled him close to his body.

"It's ok, John," Sherlock whispered, "I've got you now."

"I-it h-h-h-h-hurts," John sputtered through the pain.

Sherlock leaned forward and licked John's shoulder, where the wound was. John felt the pain lift slowly. It spread through his shoulder and arm. John gasped in surprise. He clung to Sherlock's coat as a tingly feeling spread through his shoulder. His vision cleared completely and his head followed suit. Sherlock lifted his head away to look into John's eyes.

"You're blood really in delicious," Sherlock licked his lips a bit, "Sorry. Can't help it."

"I-it's ok," John's voice shook, "I-I w-was s-scared."

He buried his face into Sherlock's shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. Never had he felt so relieved and safe in his entire life. Sherlock held him tightly, loving the feeling of John's heart beating against his chest. He stroked John's hair and rocked him back and forth a bit. John's sobs slowly died away, but he never quit clinging to Sherlock's coat.

Finally, John turned his head to look up sheepishly at Sherlock.

"What were you doing out here?" Sherlock demanded.

"L-l-looking f-for you," John whimpered.

Sherlock's sharp eyes softened a bit and he smiled slightly at John.

"Why?" Sherlock questioned, "Why didn't you just call me?"

"U-uh," John looked away, embarrassed.

_I didn't even think of that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. _John mentally scolded himself.

"It's ok," Sherlock assured him, "You're safe now. What was it that you needed?"

"I-I j-just," John bit his lip, "Y-you s-said y-you l-loved m-me…"

"I do love you," replied Sherlock.

John looked up into Sherlock's cool blue-grey eyes and searched for any hint of lying. He searched and searched and saw only love and caring in those cool eyes. His eyes teared in response. He did the only thing he could think of; he reached up and kissed Sherlock softly on the mouth. Sherlock looked at him in surprise, his eyes widening comically and his mouth dropping open. John laughed softly.

"I think I love you too," he whispered.

* * *

**Little note: I have an idea to continue this story. However, I want to know what you guys think. It wouldn't be all about the romance, there would be some more action in it. So continue with some more action or leave it at this? Up to you guys. Thanks for your continued support!**


	14. Chapter 14

If Romeo and Juliet hadn't died and they had lived together, happily ever after, that would be John and Sherlock. Every day was a thousand kisses and a thousand "I love you"s. John had never been happier and more nervous in his life. On the one hand he had a wonderful loving boyfriend and on the other hand he had a very present amount of hormones that raged through his body at a mere look from said boyfriend. _I hate being a teenager _John thought miserably_. I have no qualms with the whole gay sex thing, it isn't like my arsehole was a virgin or anything, but I'm afraid that in the throes of passion (yes, the throes of passion) that Sherlock may forget his normal caring and…._

John sighed heavily, his head leaning on his hand. _What is the teacher even talking about? _He wondered briefly. He let that thought wander out of his head, as he wondered more about having sex with Sherlock. _I wonder if he even wants to have sex with me. _John thought, _huh. If he doesn't then it's no big deal, I guess. But I really want to have sex with him…kind of…ugh. _

Meanwhile, Sherlock was sitting next to John with a similar crisis. _I wonder if he'd be more inclined if I told him he could be on top? Maybe he's just scared…or maybe he doesn't want to have sex with me. That's entirely possible. I mean, it could be an entirely plutonic love…But…he kisses so passionately…and I know he sometimes goes off and has a wank in the shower….It's not like I can't hear those sensual whispers through the wall of our room, John…._Sherlock looked over at John, remembering the whispers from last night.

_"Y-y-yes, oh g-g-god y-yessss."_

A shock went up and down Sherlock's spine and heat pooled in his groin. He sighed heavily, _stupid transport. _John turned to look at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow at him. He shook his head and buried his face in his book.

"_A Link is one of the most dangerous things for a vampire." _Sherlock read, _"It can cause the vampire's rationale to be completely thrown off. The vampire is likely to get in more fights and even fight with people or other vampires it considers family or friend. It is not quite known what happens to a vampire when the human does not reciprocate feelings of love for the vampire. However, it's widely agreed that the vampire is effected in some way."_

_Ugh. It's the same thing that the other book said. _Sherlock thought angrily. _What's the point of having all these vampire lore books if they've all got the same information in them! _Sherlock flipped the page, hoping the next page would get some sort of new information.

"_A Link usually holds a strong emotional bond. However, there is also a strong physical bond." _

Sherlock sat up straighter, _this is new._

"_Generally, a vampire who has a Link will feel strong sexual attraction for the human. It can become painful for the vampire if the attraction is not acted upon. Erections may last unseemly long amounts of time for male vampires and a female vampire may find herself wet between the legs for extremely long times. It is unknown what will happen if a vampire does not act upon the attraction. However, it is known that relief in other ways will not completely relieve the vampire, it will need to have sexual actions with the human that it formed the Link with. There is small rumor that the vampire will, quite literally, explode if they do not have this relief. This is only rumor and not fact. Little else is known about the physical aspect of a Link."_

_Little else is known! Of course little else is known! _Sherlock growled inside his mind. _It's not like I can make him have sex with me so I don't explode based off one little rumor. _Sherlock sighed again, causing another look from John. He pulled a sheet of paper from his notebook and scribbled "_Just learning a bit about the Link. No worries." _And passed it to John. John read it quickly and scribbled back _"Anything important or interesting?"_

"_No. Just some rumors."_

"_Anything we should be worried about?"_

"_No. They're rumors. Hardly something to worry about."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes, John. I'm sure."_

"_Ok, I love you."_

"_I love you too, John."_

John tucked the note into his pocket, wanting to keep it forever. _He's totally lying. There's something wrong. Oh, well. I'm sure he'll figure it out. He's really brilliant. And beautiful. I love the way those long fingers stroke my hair and face….i wonder what it would be like if those fingers stroked my…_John sat bolt upright as he blushed deeply. It was Sherlock's turn to look at John and raise an eyebrow. John shook his head and buried it in his arms. _I'm so hopeless._

* * *

John was laying bored on his bed while Sherlock took a shower. _Uggghhh. So bored. _He muttered inside his mind. He turned his head to look over at Sherlock's side of the room. He saw the book Sherlock was reading earlier on his desk. _Hmm. Wonder what it says. Sherlock did seem rather frustrated. _He rolled off his bed and opened the book to Sherlock's bookmark. _Strong sexual attraction? _John raised an eyebrow. His eyebrows lifted higher the more he read. _Oh my god…that's why he was so upset…oh…He probably didn't want to say anything because he didn't want to pressure me. but if we wait too long…_

John snapped the book shut and placed it back on the desk. He could barely breathe; his heart was beating so fast. He gulped in a few deep breaths and sat back on his bed. He managed to calm himself, as he tried to figure out how to go about this. The shower was still going, so if John called to Sherlock he would come out in only a towel or maybe nothing at all. John's penis responded well to that thought. He shakily pulled off his shirt and pants. He took a few more calming breaths. _Sherlock will never hurt you. It will be totally fine. He won't hurt you. _John smiled and pushed himself farther back on the bed.

"Sherlock, can you come here?" John said clearly.

The shower was off and the door was open before John could say "please". Sherlock stood at the door, water dripping down him, a towel lazily wrapped around him. He stared at John's almost naked form and a tent clearly rose in the towel.

"Wh-what do you need, John?" Sherlock cleared his throat.

"You," John whispered in a deep throaty voice.

Sherlock bounded over to the bed and had John pinned beneath him before he could say "if you don't mind too much". Sherlock was panting heavily in John's face. John looked up at him with complete trust. Sherlock lowered himself, bringing their lips together. He could feel that dead heart of his hammering wildly against his chest. He prodded John's lips with his tongue, willing them to open and allow him in. john brought his tongue out to greet Sherlock's and the tips touched. The spark that ensues had John and Sherlock desperately gripping each other, pulling the other ever closer to them. Both tongues explored their mouths thoroughly, making sure every nook and cranny was swished over and tasted.

Sherlock tugged John's underwear down, briefly untangling their tongues to pull them off. He then trailed kisses up to John's neck and sucked at the sweet spot, right where the shoulder meets the neck. John's hands gipped Sherlock's hair and he panted heavily in Sherlock's ear. He tried stringing together a thought, but he couldn't with the way Sherlock was grinding on his hips. He gasped for air and squeezed his eyes shut. _Ohhh…ohh…oh man this is good. Oh wow._

"St-stom-mach o-or b-b-back?" John gasped out.

Sherlock suddenly froze. He pushed himself up to stare at John. John whimpered at the sudden halt.

"What did you say?" Sherlock questioned.

"D-do y-you w-want me o-on m-my b-back or st-stom-mach?" John frowned at him.

"Wait," Sherlock shook his head, "You want me to…be inside you?"

John blushed furiously at the words being said out loud.

"Y-y-y-yes," he managed to sputter out.

Sherlock's cock stretched painfully against John's thigh and warmth spread all through him. He gasped in pleasure, his face lighting up with a grin.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, cautiously.

"Yes," John whispered.

Sherlock looked at him a moment then gently flipped him over, exposing his perfect arse. Sherlock trailed a finger down John's spine, stopping just before John's sweetly puckered hole, which seemed devoid of hair and immensely clean. Apparently John was a very clean person. He hesitated a moment before slowly entering his finger. He expected a gasp from John, but got none. _Oh yes. That's right. His ass is no virgin._

"Lift up your ass," Sherlock growled.

John obeyed without hesitation and that just made Sherlock even harder, though he didn't think he could be. When he entered John there was a slight relief of the heat that threatened to consume his body. John gasped only slightly and Sherlock took that to mean he could continue. It seemed mere seconds that Sherlock spent thrusting before he came in large spurts, shuddering and gasping. There were stars in his vision as he shakily lowered himself. John had apparently taken care of himself, as he was now breathing heavily with a large smile on his face and semen on his sheets under him. Sherlock laid himself on his side next to John, unsure of what to say. He'd never had sex with someone he loved before, so the awkward post-orgasm seemed even more awkward.

John on the other hand didn't feel awkward at all. _that was so easy. _He thought in relief. _Quick, simple. Now he'll be ok…thank god. But so messy. Ew. _John wrinkled his nose at the feeling of semen on his front and back. _I hate cum. It is so nasty. _He shuddered slightly and jumped out of the bed. He went to the bathroom and washed himself, thoroughly. He brought a rag and washed Sherlock as well, who just raised a lazy eyebrow at him.

"O-o-off th-the b-bed," John pointed to Sherlock's bed.

Sherlock sighed heavily and slithered off the bed. He walked the few feet to his and plopped down, shoving off the books strew over his pillow. John quickly pulled off his sheets and balled them up. He threw on the floor the end of his bed and picked up his underwear. He slipped them back on and resisted the urge to wash his hands one more time. Instead, he climbed into bed with Sherlock and cuddled up close to him.

"Night, John," Sherlock mumbled, as he threw an arm over John and pulled him close.

"N-night, Sh-sherlock," John whispered.

John stared up at Sherlock's sleeping face. _I wonder why he sleeps. _He thought suddenly. _And his heart beats too. I can feel it now. And he's got a copious amount of sperm…but if he's dead….why does he need these things?...oh well, I'll ask him in the morning. _He yawned widely and buried his face in Sherlock's bare chest.

"I love you," he whispered, not expecting an answer.

"I love you too," Sherlock replied, seemingly already asleep.

* * *

**Little note: Hey my lovlies! Weren't sure if you were going to hear from me, were you? :P Well, according to the feedback ya'll wanted more romance, sooo. More romance and some sex. I didn't detail it too much because I was a little afraid it would distract from the mood of the story. It's a bit long, but most of it is describing and setting the mood, so here you go. Love it or not? Please review. :) Thank you for all your support, I love you all!**


	15. Chapter 15

When john woke up the next morning he was in his own bed, wrapped in his own sheets. Again. _How does he do that without waking me up? _John wondered, as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. The first thing he noticed was a large blue gift bag on his desk. The second thing he noticed was a small, square envelope of a matching color, with John's full name (scribbled in Sherlock's handwriting) on it. He lifted himself up and snatched up the envelope. He settled back down on his pillow to read it.

_"Dear John,_

_ Don't worry about your sheets. They are entirely clean. I cleaned them before I put you back in bed. I got you some Chinese and a Dr. Pepper. I know they're your favorite. I know the Chinese may be cold by the time you wake up, but I remember you saying you like cold Chinese food. I realized that we did not use any lubrication last night. I am immensely sorry for that. I wasn't even thinking. I've only had sex with vampires, you see, and they are all about how tough they are, so I didn't even think about it. I am so sorry. I bought you some witch hazel pads. It's supposed to be good for the pain. Don't smell it though, because it smells awful. I also got some different types of lubrication. Some smell different and taste different, so I got several different ones. I didn't know which one you would want. I saw that you read in the book I was reading and you know about the sexual aspect of a Link. We need to talk about this as soon as you feel up to it. There are also chocolates, because you said a while ago that you hadn't had chocolates in a long time. Call or text me after you're finished reading this. Also, don't worry, there are no classes today. Which is very convenient._

_All my love,_

_ Sherlock Holmes."_

John grinned at Sherlock's name and folded the note carefully back up. He slipped it back in the envelope and slid it into his pillow case. He then turned to the bag. _How is all that stuff in there? There's no way there's enough room. _He stood up to find that there were in fact three bags. John suppressed a giggle as he peeked inside the bags. The first one had an abundant amount of Chinese food and a Dr. Pepper. The second one had the witch hazel pads and the chocolates. Sherlock apparently couldn't decide which chocolates to buy, so he bought the whole store's supply. John smiled warmly. The third bag was practically overflowing with lubrication. John giggled and blushed deeply.

_Apple flavored…lavender scented…pineapple…cinnamon…caramel…chocolate….i didn't even know they made lube in these flavors and scents. _John thought as he looked through the bag. He replaced all the bottles and pulled out his phone, pressing the 3 and hitting the talk button. Three rings later there was a click.

"John," Sherlock said, "Is something wrong?"

"N-no," John giggled again, "Y-you s-said t-to c-call."

"Oh, right," Sherlock answered brightly, "I did indeed say that."

There was the muffled sound of someone talking, but John couldn't hear what they said.

"Shove off, Mycroft!" Sherlock snarled, "Sorry, John. I'm on my way."

"O-ok," John mumbled and the phone clicked.

He carefully put it in his pocket and looked up to the window. He pushed the curtain out of the way to see outside. _It's raining; _he thought with a smile, _I'll wait for Sherlock outside the front gate. _John grinned widely and let the curtain fall back. He pranced over to his closet and quickly pulled on some clothes. He practically skipped through the halls with a huge grin plastered on his face. When he made it outside he paused for a moment to allow the rain to wash over him. He suddenly realized that he had to be the happiest boy in the entire world. Just outside the gate he stood, looking up at the sky, his eyes squinting against the rain.

"Hello, Mister Watson," a clear, cool voice startled John out of his daydreaming.

John jumped and twisted around to stare at the body attached to the voice. The man had wide, deviously looking smile directed at John. His cold, dark eyes had a small fire lit in them. He had short, sleek black hair that laid perfectly. He wore a finely tailored suit and had a cane, which was clearly not needed.

"Ya are John Watson, are ya not?" the man had a lofty voice that had a hint of Irish in it.

John felt compelled to nod his head, though he had no idea who this man was. He also knew he was a vampire, but he still felt compelled to confirm that he was indeed John Watson.

"Ya've caused a bit of a stir, Mister Watson," the man told him, "There aren't many Links formed, Mr. Watson. It's always quite a scandal when one is. But I bet ya're wondering who I am."

John nodded dumbly again.

"Ya could say I'm a friend," the man replied, with his mouth twisting in another cold smile, "More a friend of your Sherlock Holmes, than you though."

"I-i-I'm n-not a-afraid," John finally managed to find his voice, "Sh-sherlock w-would k-kill y-you."

"Yes, well, he's not here, is he?" the man said coolly, "But that's not the point. I'm here to warn you. There's about to be a whirlwind a trouble and ya're gonna be in the middle of it, Mister Watson."

"I-I'm st-still not a-afraid!" John said as firmly as he could muster.

"Well, ya should be," the man replied unperturbed, "oh, and when ya tell Sherlock about this, ya can tell him my name is James Moriarty."

Before John could question him further, Moriarty was gone. John looked around, though he knew he wouldn't see him. _Dam vampires! They're bloody everywhere! _He sighed heavily and shrugged, hoping it was just an idle threat. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. He shrieked in surprise and thrashed out at the body attached to the hand.

"John! What're you doing!? Stop!" Sherlock cried.

John froze at Sherlock's voice, realizing that the hand was his. He breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled nervously.

"Y-you sc-scared me," john clutched his chest, willing his heart to stop pounding.

"Sorry, my fault entirely," Sherlock said briskly, "I clearly should have made my presence none another way. It won't happen again."

"I-it's o-ok, Sh-sherlock," John patted his arm, "N-no b-b-big d-deal."

"What has got you so flustered, John?" Sherlock questioned.

"J-j-just th-this m-man," John quickly explained about James Moriarty.

"I don't know him," Sherlock shrugged, "Besides, I have no friends. Except for you."

"O-oh," John's heart broke a little at learning this.

Sherlock swooped down and pressed a small kiss on John's cheek. John smiled up at him sweetly. He then turned a bit and lifted his head up. He closed his eyes and smiled. He didn't know why, but he lifted up his hands, palms facing the clouds. Sherlock stood off to the side, quietly observing John's strange behavior. _Why is he doing that? _Sherlock wondered. Even John didn't know, but he knew he felt like he could do it forever.

* * *

**Little note: Moriarty's voice is just like in the show, so if there was confusion there, it's just like the show. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for all your follows, favorites, and reviews! Thank you to starrysummernights, Tern, EmoCheerleaderChellie, and ThatOneGingerKid for the multiple reviews and wonderful feedback! And welcome to all the recent followers! Love you guys!**


	16. Chapter 16

"Go take a shower!" Sherlock demanded.

"O-o-ok," john mumbled.

"Why did you stand out in the rain for so long?" Sherlock questioned in an exasperated tone, "You'll get a cold now! Take a warm shower and dry off thoroughly. Then we need to talk."

"Y-yes, Sh-sherlock," John sputtered, shivering violently.

He quickly stripped and jumped in the shower, loving the feel of warm water flowing down his cold body. _I wonder why Sherlock isn't cold. Maybe he is he just wanted me to take a shower first? Hmm. I don't know if vampires get cold…I should ask Sherlock. _John let his thoughts drift around as he washed his body. Once finished he used three towels to "dry off thoroughly" as Sherlock had instructed. He looked around dumbly for a moment, before realizing he hadn't brought clothes with him. _I am utterly hopeless. _He groaned.

"Sh-sherlock?" john called out.

Within two seconds the bathroom door was open and Sherlock was standing there.

"Yes John?" he looked down, "Why are you naked?"

"I f-forg-got m-my cl-clothes," John murmured.

"Oh, right," Sherlock nodded.

He swiftly left John and retrieved some clothes. He returned and threw them at John, who fumbled, trying to catch them. Then he left John to it, closing the door with a snap. John looked at the clothes. There were shorts and a long sapphire colored silk shirt that wasn't his. _This isn't my shirt. Maybe it's Sherlock's. Duh, it's Sherlock's. Who else would it belong to, idiot? He probably couldn't find a shirt, _john thought. He pressed the shirt to his nose and breathed deeply. It smelled faintly of some sort of spice. John closed his eyes and breathed in as much of Sherlock as he could. Then he shook his head and chuckled softly at himself. _He's in the other room, silly. _He quickly slipped on the clothes and shuffled out of the bathroom.

"Sh-sherlock," John said, "Wh-why d-did you g-give m-me y-your sh-shirt?"

Sherlock looked up to see the lovely sight of John wearing his shirt. It almost reached his knees and the sleeves hung well past his hands. _Now I know why straight men like their girls to wear their shirts. He looks adorable! _

"All you have are school uniforms," Sherlock replied, "And a few hideous jumpers. Anyway, come sit. We need to talk about some things."

John shuffled over and sat on his bed, facing Sherlock.

"First of all," Sherlock started, "I know you read the part in the vampire mythology book about the sexual aspect of a Link. While I am grateful for your concern, you must never think that you have to have sex with me."

"I-I w-wanted to," John protested, "I w-was j-just n-nervous."

"I'm glad," Sherlock said, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. This brings me to my second point. I feel must apologize again about the lubrication. You were just so enticing that I forgot myself. It will not happen again."

"I-it's ok," John assured him, "I d-don't l-like it anyw-way."

"You don't like lubrication?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"I-it's s-slimy," John wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I see," Sherlock said thoughtfully, "Ah, which reminds me of the third thing I want to talk to you about. I think you may have mysophobia."

"Wh-what?" John asked in confusion.

"More commonly known as germaphobia," Sherlock responded, "However, I think it may also only be linked to your PTSD. I noticed that as soon as you could think again, you immediately washed yourself and me. You also took off your sheets. People don't necessarily do that normally. I also noticed that you are very clean. You shave your arse, John. I don't know anyone who does that. I think that the dirtiness reminds you of what has happened to you and you subconsciously try to stop it from triggering an attack by cleaning yourself thoroughly. Hair is often associated with dirtiness, so you shave. I can see the logic. Mysophobia can be triggered by emotional trauma, so it is likely that the events in your past have caused you to become mysophobic."

"Oh," john said in a small voice.

He hadn't even ever thought about it before. He just did what he did and didn't question why. _Am I germaphobic? I don't think so…I mean….maybe…I do clean myself a lot…_john let his thoughts wander to his excessive cleanliness, the way he'd scrubbed himself raw the morning after those boys had attacked him. He thought that was just normal….he'd actually swallowed toothpaste in the hope that it would clean his throat and insides. _Yeah, I don't think that's normal…_

"It's no big deal, John," Sherlock assured him, "Just something to be aware of. I think it's important to know such things about yourself and know if you want to change it or not."

"I-I do," John said firmly, "I-I w-want to ch-change i-it."

"I'll do some research, John," Sherlock said, "We'll fix it. I'll help you every step, ok?"

"O-ok," John smiled.

"Yes, and your stutter," Sherlock said, clapping his hands, "It's psychosomatic, John. That means it originates in your mind. Which means, we can fix it. It's not a normal speech impediment that takes lots of speech therapy. It's something that only exists because you think it has to exist."

John frowned at that. _Basically, it's all in my head. Great. That just means I'm crazy._

"I have a way to help fix it, John," Sherlock assured him, "Not today, though. I don't think now is the time. Why don't we just eat that Chinese food, hmm?"

John smiled and nodded at that, getting up to retrieve it. He pulled out several containers. _He bought an awful lot of it. Wait. Does he eat? I never thought of that before…_John glanced curiously at Sherlock.

"I didn't know exactly what you liked," Sherlock said, "So I bought all sorts of different things. Can you hand me that fried rice?"

John handed it over with a fork. Sherlock immediately delved into it, eating just the same as a normal human being. _Hmm. I guess he does eat. _John picked out some delicious looking noodles and sat down to eat them. He slurped them up happily, without a thought to manners.

"It's cute how you slurp them up," Sherlock said brightly, "I enjoy watching you eat."

John blushed and tried to just focus on eating and not Sherlock's piercing stare. _I wonder who Mycroft is, _John thought suddenly. _He told him to shove off. Does that mean they don't get along? Is he a vampire too? Are they friends...is he one of the vampires that Sherlock mentioned having sex with? _John's eyebrows knit together at that thought. He didn't like to think that he was a jealous person, but the thought that Sherlock may still tall to an ex made John's heart ache in a bad way. He tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, buzzing around in his brain.

* * *

**Little note: Mysophobia can actually be triggered by emotional trauma. I did my research on that. Thanks for all the support! Love you guys!**


	17. Chapter 17

"Holy mother of God!" John shouted, "What the bloody hell? Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Sherlock rushed out of the bathroom to find John hopping up and down on one foot. He was clutching the other in his hands.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, "Why would you put a book where my feet go?"

"Ha! It worked!" Sherlock bellowed in delight, "It worked, it worked. I'm so clever."

"What are you on about?" John grumbled, lowering himself back onto his bed.

"Listen to yourself, John," Sherlock grinned at him.

"What do you mean "listen to myself-," John halted suddenly.

_I wasn't stuttering._ He thought, in shock.

"I'm not stuttering," he said, "I'm not stuttering Sherlock!"

"I did say it was psychosomatic," Sherlock stated.

It had been days since Sherlock had told him about that. He hadn't given it a second thought at all. He'd been too busy worrying about who Mycroft was. He brought a hand to his mouth and brushed his fingers to his lips gently.

"Oh," John whispered.

"You see, John," Sherlock said, "You felt that you were weaker than others. You subconsciously told yourself that you were. So your subconscious decided you needed some sort of disablement. It came in the form of your stutter. I knew it was psychosomatic, because while you told me your story, you had no stutter and the nurse said you had no stutter when you first met her. Times when you were entirely focused on something, you had no stutter. So therefore psychosomatic."

"Wow, I didn't realize," John said, marveling in his steady voice.

"I'm so happy," Sherlock knit his eyebrows together, "And I'm not sure why."

"You're happy for me, silly," John grinned at him.

"Oh, right," Sherlock responded, "That…makes sense."

John shook his head and smiled at Sherlock's confused face.

"And it's gone," John said, "Just like that, it's all gone."

"Once your mind consciously realized it, it stopped," Sherlock shrugged.

"Huh," John rubbed his face, "That still hurt though."

"Oh. Sorry," Sherlock's excitement died down a bit at that, "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," John muttered.

"Would you like to have sex again?" Sherlock asked, suddenly.

"Wh-what?" John sputtered, "Now? We have classes, Sherlock!"

"I meant some time," Sherlock said, "Not necessarily right this moment."

"Oh," John blushed and bowed his head, "If you want to, I guess."

"John," Sherlock sighed, "People have sex because they both want to, not just because one wants to."

"But I don't care, Sherlock," John tried to sound reassuring, "It doesn't matter to me. We can if you want to."

"Oh," Sherlock turned away suddenly, "I thought that it…meant something to you. I understand. Well, I think I'd better get to class now. See you later."

"Wait, Sherl-," John started.

But before John could explain himself more thoroughly, Sherlock was gone. _That came out completely wrong. Now he thinks I don't care about him. Ugh. _John rubbed his head at the thoughts threatening to overflow. He got up and dressed quickly. He'd had a shower last night and Sherlock said that if he had a shower at night, he shouldn't have one in the morning. So he dressed and combed his hair, hoping he could get to class to talk to Sherlock before it started. He managed to get to class in time, bounding in through the door.

"Sherlock!" he shouted once he made it into the class.

He weaved his way through the desks, ignoring the stares being thrown at him. when he made it to Sherlock's desk, fell to his knees and gripped Sherlock's arm, which was normally cold, but when he touched it, it was warm. This made him falter for a moment. _What…._his thought was lost as he lifted his hand away and placed it back on Sherlock's arm, finding that as soon as his hand touched Sherlock's arm, it turned warm.

"What in the world?" he removed his hand and placed it down again, feeling the warmth spread from his own hand to Sherlock's arm.

"John? What are you doing?" Sherlock asked coolly.

"Sorry," John shook his head, "I wanted to tell you something, but I got distracted. Did you realize when I touch you, you turn warm?"

"Yes," Sherlock said simply.

"Oh, ok," John shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts; "I wanted to say that I do care Sherlock. I do want to have sex with you. It's just, I don't want you to feel pressured and I don't mind if we don't. Because I love you. Sex is just a bonus. I don't need that to love you."

"Oh," Sherlock's coldness seemed to melt slightly, "I see."

"So, can you forgive me for sounding rude?" John pleaded, staring up at Sherlock.

_Oh god, look at those puppy dog eyes. I will never be mad at this boy ever again, _Sherlock thought and his face and heart softened, _and dear lord, he's on his knees. No! Down Sherlock! Don't be an animal! _Sherlock coughed slightly and shifted in his seat.

"Yes," Sherlock finally answered.

That one word caused John to relax and lay his head on Sherlock's knee. To which Sherlock repositioned uncomfortably. John breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled his face into Sherlock's leg. Sherlock pushed him off and crossed his legs, which caused John to frown. He looked at Sherlock's crossed legs and saw a slight bulge. _Oh. I'm on my knees and…oops. _John thought as he blushed and scooted away.

"This is a class, is it not?" rang out a familiar Irish voice.

John's head snapped up to the man standing at the front of the room. His jaw dropped as he stared in disbelief at what he saw. _Mori…Moriarty? Moriarty. That's him. He's here. Why is here? Why? Why? Why? Why? _John's thoughts spun into a whirlwind of whys and his hands began to shake.

"Mister Watson," Moriarty called, "This is a class, is it not?"

"Y-y-y-yes," John sputtered out, trying to calm his shaking.

"Then why are you on the ground, Mister Watson?" he asked, with a smug look, "Unless you're servicing Mister Holmes, I can hardly see a point for you being on the ground. And even then, this is still a class. Servicing should be done elsewhere."

"I-i-I wa-wasn't," John's voice shook and his limbs seemed to pull toward his body in a defensive gesture.

"Then you should probably return to your seat," Moriarty replied, turning to the board, "My name is Mister Moriarty. I am your substitute teacher."

John scrambled back to his seat as Moriarty wrote his name on the board with a flourish.

"I'm sure we'll all have quite a bit of fun, don't you?" Moriarty said as he turned back around.

John shivered as he felt those cold, dark eyes burn into his. He clenched his hands together and forced himself to glare right back at him. Moriarty grinned at John, apparently thinking that his determination and bravery was cute. The rest of the class, Moriarty pranced about teaching, using that lofty voice of his. It made John want to stab his own ears. He hated that voice. _It's that awful voice that people have when they think they're better than everyone else. Who is this man? Why is he here?...he said something about Sherlock….I wonder if he intends to hurt him. _John threw a worried glance at Sherlock, when that thought crossed his mind. Sherlock looked over and raised an eyebrow at John's worried face. John sighed and shrugged, looking back to the front of the class.

"Yes and then you would do this, children," Moriarty's voice was saying.

_I have no idea what he is talking about _John realized. Moriarty's prideful voice crept into his ears and infested his brain. It seemed to crawl about, rubbing itself against the darkest parts of John's mind. It evoked powerful feelings that John didn't ever remember having. It awakened the anger and hate he tried so hard to suppress as it made its way into every corner of John's mind. John felt his eyes begin to close and his head drooped down. Yet, Moriarty's voice continued its gentle assault on his brain. He was vaguely aware of putting his head on his desk, as Moriarty's voice turned to a whisper that prodded at all the secret places in his mind.

_"I know everything about you, John Watson," _it seemed to say, _"You're greatest fears and your darkest secrets. I know more about you than even you know, because I know the things you refuse to acknowledge. You can't escape me, John Watson. I have you and you are going nowhere."_

John felt as though the shadows of Moriarty's voice him were closing in. he frantically tried to reach out for something, but he couldn't move. The shadows swallowed him up and a scream died before it could reach his lips. He could feel something squeezing him, as though to claim the very breath in his lungs. He tried to gasp to bring back the air, but the squeezing allowed no air. He tried to move, to fight, but something held him still.

"John! John! Wake up!" cried the sweetest baritone voice.

_Sherlock. My Sherlock. Save me. _John could only think. He felt himself being pushed roughly. It felt like hands were shaking him. Then he felt himself fall over the edge of some chasm, but everything went black before he hit the bottom.

* * *

**Little note: Hey, guys. SO sorry it took forever! I was trying to get it how I wanted it. I think I got it right, but I guess that's up to you guys! Thanks for all your reviews and the people I shouted out to before get another shout out because you're still awesome. I only add Pyroclast17, because you were very helpful and your review really gave me some things to think about, so thank you and I hope this chapter fits what you told me. And huggles to you too. Soooo tired or I would say more. Thank you for all your support, I would've given up by now if it weren't for you guys.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Sherlock," came from his mouth before he was even fully awake.

"Here, John," came the sweet baritone.

"Good," John mumbled as he forced his eyes open.

He blinked heavily at the bright lights. _Nurse's office _he thought with a groan. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the light. Finally, he was able to see and he turned to Sherlock. Sherlock looked at him with concern filling every corner of his face.

"What happened?" John croaked out.

"I don't know," Sherlock answered, "One minute you were falling asleep and the next you were whimpering and screaming. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't. I pushed you a bit, trying to get you to wake up and you fell out of your chair."

"It's that vampire," John whispered, "Moriarty."

"What? How do you know he's a vampire?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"You can't tell?" john asked in a confused voice.

"No," Sherlock admitted, "Usually, I find out by them telling me or I see them attack someone. I've never looked at someone and known they were a vampire. Can you do that with all vampires?"

"Yes," john said, "I automatically know if they're a vampire. I knew you were one the first time I saw you."

"I thought you figured it out because of how I left," Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together, "Since I did leave with vampire speed. Interesting. Perhaps an adaptation. Your brain and body trying to help protect you. I've never heard of such a thing before."

John shrugged, but inwardly groaned. _Great, another weird thing about me._ he sighed heavily and swung his legs off the bed.

"Budge up, Sherlock," he muttered, "Trying to get off the bed."

Sherlock stood from the chair he was sitting in and went around the curtain. John could hear some muffled talking. John hoisted himself up and walked to the curtain. When he drew it back he saw the nurse, Sherlock and Moriarty. He stumbled back a bit as Moriarty turned to smile at him.

"Feeling better, John?" the vampire asked.

"Yuh-yes," john mumbled.

"Good," Moriarty's voice drew John in, "I would hate to have you passing out in class again. It leaves you quite defenseless."

John shuddered at the threat behind Moriarty's words and turned to Sherlock for help. Sherlock merely held out his hand. John took it and they left, just like that. Sherlock didn't speak a word as they walked hand in hand to their room. When they got there he left john to his own devices as he buried his nose in a book. John wanted to ask him what he thought about Moriarty, but he was afraid that Sherlock would think he was silly. Instead, he decided to read as well. He opened one of Sherlock's vampire mythology books. He looked up Link in the glossary and turned to the designated page.

_"Links can become quite cumbersome for the Linked vampire. However, a human who has acknowledged a Link and become the vampire's lover, can become more confident and healthier. The human will experience dependency on the vampire, feeling as though they cannot live without them. It is unsure what happens to a human if they are completely Linked to a vampire who dies, however, most believe the human also dies. If it is not a Complete Link (see Complete Link, page 127), then the human will go unaffected. This much is known from the case of vampire Dr. Victor Hokum and the human he was Linked to. The human was observed after his death and observed to be mostly unaffected by the death (there was a small bit of mourning as the human considered Dr. Hokum a friend)."_

_ Hmm…I wonder what this "Complete Link" is about…_john thought, as he turned to page 127. He quickly found the correct place and began to read. What he read made his stomach twist in an uncomfortable way.

_"A Complete Link is formed when a human accepts the vampire who has formed a Link with them. The human must know that the Link exists and accept the vampire anyway. The Link is completed when the human willingly has sexual intercourse with the vampire. Once this has happened, it is impossible for the vampire to break the Link without dying. Once a human and a vampire have a Complete Link, the vampire's life depends on the human's. in other words, if the human dies, so will the vampire."_

_ Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. If I die, he dies. His life depends on mine? Maybe that's why he's so protective…_john slowly closed the book and put it back on the desk. He shook his head, trying to clear all the thoughts that were threatening to break through.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock demanded.

"What?" John looked up, startled, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie," Sherlock responded, "When you shake your head like that, it means you're thinking something you wish you weren't. So what's wrong?"

John started to ask how he knew that, but decided that he'd better not.

"Just something I read," John answered, "Did you know that if I die, you die?"

Sherlock looked down for a moment.

"Yes," Sherlock stated.

"And that doesn't bother you?" john asked.

"Not really, no," Sherlock answered, "Because if you died, I'd want to be dead anyway."

His answer shocked john into to open-mouthed silence. _Did he just say what I think he said? _John wondered, wildly. _No way…_

"Are you serious, Sherlock?" john asked, hesitantly.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, "Dead serious."

John had to giggle at that. Then he had to giggle at giggling at something so serious. Then he just had to giggle for the sake of giggling. Pretty soon, John was clutching his sides and Sherlock was staring down at him, with a bewildered look on his face.

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock questioned.

"You-Just," john couldn't stop laughing at the pun and Sherlock's confused face.

_God he's laughing again. I love that so much. Why do I love that so much? Normally I hate laughter, so loud and annoying, _Sherlock thought as a smile began to play on his lips. He sighed heavily and decided he didn't care why he loved it, he just did.

* * *

**Little note: I know this one is a bit short and not very revealing, but I didn't want two big chapters in a row. Starrysummernights, you are still the best ever. Tern, you're a close second. Welcome to the few new followers we have. I promise we'll be getting some big action very soon! Love you guys!**


	19. Chapter 19

John spent the next few days in silent fear of Moriarty. His only relief was when Sherlock kissed him or hugged him. John knew there was something going on with Moriarty, he just didn't know what.

One particular Friday, John was incredibly anxious. The lingering looks that Moriarty was giving him was starting to really creep him out. He desperately wanted to tell Sherlock that he thought something was wrong, but he was even more afraid that Sherlock would think he was stupid. So he sat in class, anxiously doodling on his notepaper. Finally, the bell rang. He jumped up relieved and so glad for that annoying sound.

"Mister Watson," Moriarty's voice halted him before he could take a step, "I need to speak with you a moment."

John felt panic ran rampant through his mind. He took calming breaths as he walked carefully to Moriarty's desk.

"I'll wait for you, yes?" Sherlock called.

"It's ok," John answered, "I'll catch up."

Sherlock shrugged and darted out of the classroom. John slowly made his way to the desk and stood. He pushed down the panic building inside him and patiently waited for the last of the students to leave. At last, Moriarty turned to face him, a bemused look on his face.

"Oh, John," Moriarty's voice had that amused-but-not-really-amused sound in it, "You're quite a pest, you know. You have caused such a stir in the vampire community. It's amazing, really, how much trouble one simple, insignificant human can cause. Do you realize how insignificant you are, John Watson?"

John swallowed the bit of fear that threatened to make him scream in terror. John tried to force himself to look at the vampire, but his eyes refused to look at Moriarty, as though they were afraid of being caught. Suddenly the vampire's voice was in his ear.

"The only thing about you that makes you worthwhile, John my dear," Moriarty's voice whispered, "Is that delectable blood of yours. I do think I will have myself a drink. You see, your vampire boyfriend is a bit too arrogant for my tastes. He needs to be taken down a notch and you just so happen to be the direct way to his heart. What is it about you that he loves?"

John was shocked by the question and couldn't help but wonder the answer. He realized he didn't know. Moriarty's arms circled around him and he shivered in fear. Moriarty's tongue flicked out and gently slipped along John's neck, causing him to shudder horribly.

"Perhaps it is your blood," Moriarty moaned into John's skin, "I bet he loves it. I bet he laps it up like a dog. Ooo, a dog. That's what I shall compare him to. Because, John my sweet, he is nothing but a dog. He is an animal, John, and you shall see that soon enough."

John was about to open his mouth to defend Sherlock, _his Sherlock, _when a hand covered it. He struggled against Moriarty, whose grip had suddenly become iron-like. John's eyes squeezed shut, knowing what would happen next. As the teeth slid cleanly into his skin, he felt white-hot pain searing through his body. His strength was gone and he could do nothing but slacken against Moriarty, his mind fuzzing against the pain. His shoulder throbbed horribly and his heart felt as though it was going to explode. And then, it was gone.

The heat left his body. It vanished as quickly as it had come. Suddenly he was on the floor, cold and shivering. He felt a slick wetness at his shoulder and then someone roughly standing him up. He wobbled slightly, gripping the person holding him. He let himself fall into the shoulder of that person for a moment, not caring who it was. His heart beat steadied as he gasped against the shoulder. His vision and hearing cleared enough for him to realize two things. One was that he was gripping Moriarty. Two was that Moriarty was speaking in soft, soothing tones.

"It's ok, Johnny dear," he whispered, "I'll take good care of you. Don't worry. We'll have an agreement, won't we? You give me what I want and you will be taken care of."

"N-n-n-n-n," John attempted to sputter out a rejection.

"Hush now," Moriarty breathed.

John trembled as his mouth snapped shut at the command. His knees weakened and he had to lean more heavily on Moriarty. Moriarty's fingers stroked through his hair as he guided John to a seat. He set John down and began to pull away, but John's fingers refused to unclench themselves from his shirt. Moriarty laughed loudly.

"So clingy already, John?" his voice had a slight edge to it.

John looked up, eyes wide. As he looked into the cold, dark eyes, he only felt one thing: fear. The fear consumed him. He was so afraid that his legs trembled and his heart rate quickened. Moriarty looked down on him with a cold amusement in his eyes. He leaned forward, stopping with his nose almost touching John's.

"You're mine now, my dear," his voice rang out inside John's skull like an echo in a cave.

"No," John mouthed.

"Yes," Moriarty hissed.

John felt his hands shake against Moriarty's shirt.

"Let me go," John whimpered.

"I will," Moriarty smiled cruelly, "For now."

Then he leaned forward and touched his lips to John's. John's vision blurred in shock and then the heat was gone again. Moriarty was gone. John was left gasping for air, his hands clutching at nothing. It seemed like an eternity before his mind cleared enough for him to drop his hands. He finally looked around cautiously to see that Moriarty had left the room entirely. He took a few more moments to catch his breath and calm his wildly beating heart before heading out of the class. He shuffled calmly to his next class and sat next to Sherlock. Sherlock poked his arm and raised an eyebrow at him. He forced a smile and shrugged. _I don't even know what to say to him, _John thought as the bell rang.

* * *

**Little note: I don't know how believable Moriarty is to you all, but when I was writing him I was scaring myself. So I hope he is adequate to your villain needs. Please don't stop reviewing! I love your reviews! Even if all you want to say is "Gah. Bad ending." I will be overjoyed. As always, I love you guys!**


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm not stupid, John," Sherlock stated.

John jumped violently and laughed nervously. He turned in his chair and put down his book.

"What are you talking about?" John laughed out, still shaking a bit from the scare.

"Something happened," Sherlock said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to John, who rubbed his shoulder slightly. Suddenly Sherlock grabbed his hand and ripped the shirt from his neck, revealing the skin of his shoulder.

"Sherlock!" John yelped, frantically.

"John, what is this?" Sherlock growled, "A bite? Who bit you? The teeth marks…it was a vampire! Who was it? Tell me now!"

John wasn't sure if it was Sherlock's intense eyes and voice or that he really wanted to tell Sherlock, but he was spilling out Moriarty's name before he could even breathe. He started telling Sherlock what happened. He felt hot tears roll down his face as he recounted Moriarty's teeth and hands and his awful, awful voice.

"I didn't tell you, because I didn't think you'd believe me," John finished in a whisper.

"Not believe you?" Sherlock shouted, "I love you! I will always believe you! I knew something was wrong as soon as you came into class earlier and gave me that fake-ass smile! I will always believe every word that comes from your mouth, John. Always."

John looked up at Sherlock with wide, tearful eyes. Sherlock's face softened a bit and he relaxed his grip on John's wrist and shoulder. He lowered himself until he was on one knee in front of John.

"I know you were scared," Sherlock whispered, "But I'm here for you. I will be here for you as long as we both live."

"Are you proposing to me?" John questioned.

Sherlock took notice of his position and choice of words. _Not exactly what I was going for…but why not? _

"Yes," Sherlock answered, taking John's hand in both of his, "Marry me, John Watson."

"Are you serious?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded.

"No," John replied.

Sherlock froze. _That is not at all what I was expecting. _John slipped his hand from Sherlock's and abruptly stood. He turned away from Sherlock and walked to the door. Sherlock felt numb and cold all over. He heard the door open and close and John's retreating footsteps. _Why do I feel so cold? _Sherlock pondered. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place. Then suddenly it hit him very hard. _I feel like a vampire again…._

* * *

**Little note: I know, I know. It's awful and horrible and I am a terrible, terrible person. BUT my writers instinct told me to do this. I have no idea why. I would like to say that I do or that I'm just being lazy, but something told me to end it here. I originally planned lots of answers to your questions and lots of action, but suddenly it was like "NO! STOP NOW!" So I did. Please feel free to send me messages about how awful I am and throw eggs at me. Starry, Tern, and Ginge: You all are my peeps. Thank you for still reviewing! Thanks to all the new followers and favioriters. I love you all!**


	21. Chapter 21

"I d-d-did i-it," John sobbed, clutching at the man's legs, "I d-d-did i-i-it! I d-did wh-what y-you s-said!"

"Good John," the man purred, petting the top of John's head, "You are a good, good pet."

John whimpered and sobbed harder.

"Y-you s-said y-you'd luh-leave h-him a-alone," John wailed, "Y-you w-will, w-won't y-you?"

"Oh, John," the man bent to whisper in his ear, "I've done what I came to do. My purpose was to take him down a notch and now he's been taken to the lowest. He might as well be dead now. You've done excellently, my pet."

John let out a strangled yelp as he realized what he had really done. _I had to, I had to. Moriarty said he would kill him…the note said he would kill him…_John collapsed from pain, sorrow, and the realization that he may have really broken Sherlock's heart. He tried to remember why he felt it so necessary to do what he had done. _The note, the note, the note, _his mind whimpered at him. he'd ben in class, when he had noticed it. He took it from his pocket and read it carefully, his heart suddenly beating wildly…

"_My dear John,_

_ If you wish for your lovely boyfriend to live, you will have to reject him. That's right, my pet. You will have to crush his heart, unless you want me to. Sometime today, I'm sure you will finally tell him what I did to you. Then he'll give you some long speech about how much he cares for you. Oh how disgustingly sweet it will be. And you will reject him. Then you will leave and find me. I will spare his life if you find me today._

_ Your master,_

_ Jim Moriarty."_

John remembered the way he'd panicked and tried to think of a million ways to stop it from happening. But he felt powerless. He knew Moriarty was strong and he was afraid that Sherlock could not match him, let alone best him. The thought of Sherlock dying sent chills of fear up and down his spine. So he complied. He spilled his guts to Sherlock and then rejected him, almost immediately sobbing as he blindly tried to find his way to Moriarty. And now here he was, clutching Moriarty and realizing his mistake. His only consolation was that Moriarty would not kill Sherlock.

"Oh John, sweetie," Moriarty hummed in his ear, "It's too late for regrets. What's done is done. You have me, that has to be a good consolation, doesn't it?"

John snarled at that and pushed himself away from Moriarty. He scrabbled away, trying to crawl to the door, when he felt a sudden yank around his throat. He let out a strangled cry as he fell backwards. His fingers flew to his neck. There was something hard around it. He tried to look down at it, to see what it was, but it was too tight to his neck.

"It's a collar, my pet," Moriarty smirked, "I couldn't have you running off after you came to your senses."

John gripped the hard leather and pulled at it. He knew it was in vain, but he tried anyway. He yanked at it until his fingers lost feeling and his neck seared in pain. Moriarty laughed at his foolishness, but made no move to stop him. Finally, John gave up, tears flowing down his face. Moriarty crouched next to him and petted his hair. John wanted to laugh at the irony of becoming a puppy for Sherlock, as Sherlock had done for him, but the instead all that came out was a choked cry.

"There, there, my sweet," Moriarty said in a soothing voice, "Let's go home, shall we?"

John quelled the fear and anger that bubbled inside him. _It's too late, I've made the mistake and now I have to live with it. _Moriarty stood swiftly and started toward the door, tugging on the leash that was attached to John's collar. John stood shakily and walked to Moriarty, who had halted by the door.

"Down, John," the vampire said coldly, "Pets do not stand on two legs."

John whimpered at the anger in the cold voice and dropped down on all fours. Moriarty's face cleared into a satisfied smirk. He then opened the door and tugged to have John follow him. John took no moment to gather his dignity for he felt he had none left. He simply crawled out to Moriarty and waited for him to move. Moriarty seemed incredibly satisfied with John's obedience and tugged him along. John tried to bring himself to worry that someone would see them, but he felt himself start to spiral into an abyss of apathy. He followed Moriarty like the obedient dog he now was, allowing his cares to be shed and left behind with every shuffle forward.

Outside, John had to crawl over asphalt that made his knees and hands hurt. He numbly acknowledged it, but did nothing to relieve it. Moriarty tugged him to a stop and opened a door. John looked up to see it was a car door. Moriarty leaned over him and patted him on the butt.

"Up you go, Johnny boy," Moriarty said in an amused voice.

John climbed into the car as best he could. Moriarty boosted him after a certain point. John crawled over to the other side of the car, which turned out to be a limousine. He sat on his legs, unsure of how exactly he was supposed to sit. Moriarty slid into the vehicle gracefully and closed the door.

"Drive," he stated toward the front of the car, before turning to John, "Come here, my pet. You're much too far away."

John crawled along the seat and stopped next to Moriarty who reached out and petted his hair. _What will make him happy? _John wondered. He dipped his head down and laid it on Moriarty's leg, as he had seen dogs do in the past. Moriarty chuckled in response.

"Very eager to please your master, are you?" he mused, "Good boy."

John felt a twinge of fear and regret, which we suppressed. Moriarty petted his hair softly and he found the gesture very soothing. He felt himself begin to drift off, as Moriarty whispered something. He was too far asleep to hear or care what he had said. Suddenly there was a jerk on his hair that had him howling. His eyes snapped open and he looked wildly around before realizing it was Moriarty's hand that had jerked his hair. He looked up with a whimper.

"I said, bark, John!" Moriarty snarled, viciously.

"Wh-wh-what?" John sputtered.

Moriarty's hand jerked harder and his other hand pulled back. John squeezed his eyes closed as the stinging blow landed on his cheek. John whimpered again, hating how much he was whimpering. Moriarty yanked again.

"I said, bark!" he growled.

John let his fear swell a bit, before crushing it back down. He swallowed hard and looked into Moriarty's dark eyes.

"Arf, arf!" He barked out, trying to sound as much like a dog as possible.

"Oh, yes," Moriarty relaxed his grip, "Good boy. Very good."

John let out a couple more tentative barks. Moriarty petted his hair gently once again. John started to lower his head again, but Moriarty put a hand under his chin.

"No, no, my sweet," he whispered.

John looked up with wide eyes. Moriarty put his hand on his pants and swiftly unzipped them. John whimpered in fear and realization. Moriarty quickly removed himself from his trousers and pushed down on John's head. Though he knew it was coming, he still felt the clenching in is stomach. He leaned in, opening his mouth. Moriarty let out a satisfied hiss as John lowered his mouth around him. John felt tears fill up in his eyes. He quickly blinked them away. _This is how it is now. Remember what your father told you, John. Square off your shoulders. _John felt Moriarty's hand press down on his head. _I miss you, Sherlock, _his mind whispered.

* * *

**Little note: DO YOU HATE ME YET? I feel like you do...I feel like you should after two chapters like this. Anyway, thank you all for being patient and only throwing a few eggs at me! Love you all!**


	22. Chapter 22

The next few hours blurred in John's mind. He vaguely felt the hot spurt in his mouth and throat, followed by a few satisfied grunts and hisses. The car stopped before too long and he was herded out of it. He watched the ground as he crawled behind Moriarty's heels. He felt tugging occasionally and moved in response to it. He felt hot searing pain in his neck, but it was nothing in comparison to the pit of despair and apathy his heart was thrown into. He barely responded to the pain and the sloppy healing afterwards. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, he'd lost the one thing, the one _person_, he'd had and now nothing was important. The only thing he heard or saw was Moriarty.

"Oh, my pet, you seem so sad," Moriarty brushed some of John's hair from his forehead, "Perhaps I should bring a friend to cheer you up? Sherlock would certainly cheer you up, wouldn't he?"

At the hidden threat, John jumped and started nuzzling Moriarty and panting much in the way Sherlock had done for him. He eagerly tried to distract Moriarty from any thoughts of Sherlock.

"Oh yes, that's a good boy," Moriarty purred, "Be cheerful for daddy."

John waggled his rear, trying to imitate the dogs he'd seen before. _Just a dog, just a dog, _he assured himself, allowing a few barks to escape his lips. Moriarty's face had an expression of pure delight on it. John tentatively licked his hand, which caused a loud hiss from the owner of the hand.

"Oh, you are eager, aren't you?" Moriarty smirked, "Such a good pet. I think I'll keep you in my room."

John's enthusiasm didn't waver for a moment. He acknowledged the innuendo, but allowed it to pass through him without raising any fear. It wasn't the first time he'd dealt with such things. He allowed himself to be fully submerged into the character of the dog he now was. Moriarty petted his head for a moment, before tugging him along. As they went down the hallway, John took no real notice of his surroundings. Moriarty tugged him up a rather long set of steps and down another hallway. John followed, watching the ground pass beneath him. Finally, Moriarty pushed open a door and ushered him inside.

"Do you like it, my pet?" he questioned, amusement clear in his voice.

John looked around at the room. It was extravagant. He'd never seen any room quite as lovely in his life. It was all decked out in gold and red. There was a large dresser with a mirror on it that looked a lot like a vanity table, only larger than any John had ever seen. There was a large oak wardrobe that had John briefly thinking of Narnia. There was a plush red sofa like the kind John saw in palaces in the few movies he'd seen. The bed was the worst of it all. It was so inviting and so wonderful that John found himself instantly hating it. It was the type that you knew was soft before ever even touching it. The bedspread was crimson with a gold pattern. The head board and foot board were both carved with amazingly intricate designs. It was one of those princess beds, that had four posters and curtains. John felt sick at the sight of it, wondering how often he would be there.

"I'll take your silence to mean you love it," Moriarty said smoothly, "Because I'd hate to think otherwise."

John felt a whimper start to bubble up in his throat, but he crushed it down. _Quit whimpering like a pathetic animal, John! _He growled in his mind. He felt Moriarty tugging at him again and followed. He heard Moriarty sit and he stopped his shuffling. He stared at the floor, suddenly realizing how dirty his hands and knees had to be. He shuddered at that and hastily wiped his hands on his trousers.

"What are you doing?" Moriarty demanded.

"M-my ha-hands a-are d-dirty," John managed to stutter out.

"Good!" Moriarty shouted at him, "You're a dog now!"

John felt the sting on his face before he registered that Moriarty was hitting him.

"You are stupid, aren't you?" Moriarty whispered in a low, dangerous voice, "I can't see what Sherlock thought was so enticing about you. Except that wonderful blood of yours."

"He never had it!" John blurted before he could stop himself.

There was another stinging blow and an angry growl.

"You dare talk back to me?!" Moriarty yelled at him, "I OWN YOU!"

John felt the whimper escape before he could stop it. Another blow rained down on his face. His thoughts wildly ran around in his head as more blows fell on his body. _What did Sherlock like about me? He never said. He just said he did. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he just pitied me. But I loved him! I still love him! The way he deduced me and smiled at me and frowned and laughed and the puppy ears and the hugs and the kisses. _John felt hotness in his eyes and heart as he realized that he would never see Sherlock again. He felt the blows, though they felt like his body had fallen asleep, the feeling was there, but it wasn't pain, it was the feeling you have when your foot is asleep and you take a step. It was fuzzy and distant.

Then quite suddenly, Moriarty's face was in front of his and everything was painfully clear and sharp. He stared into those dark, cold orbs knowing he would never escape. He felt his body begin to ache with the strikes that had been dealt. Once again he heard himself whimpering, suddenly aware that he was fully at Moriarty's mercy.

"Finally, you realize," Moriarty's voice was cold and clear, "That you're going nowhere, my pet."

John stared at his new master with fear and tears in his eyes. Moriarty smirked that icy, hard smirk of his and tugged on John's leash. John moved with the tugs, not sure what would happen next. It became crystal clear as his rear was moved to position in front of Moriarty. John swallowed and allowed himself to be moved and uncovered. He desperately backed himself into the farthest corner of his mind, so as to escape where he was physically being backed into. He felt it all and the sharp reality of it, but he didn't allow himself to shed the painfully hot tears that brimmed in his eyes. _Square off those shoulders…_

* * *

It seemed like years to John, that he was there. Moriarty had attached his leash to his bed and often left him there. John could never tell if it was day or night and he didn't care. He took no notice to the fact he was soon devoid of clothes. He also seemed to never sleep or eat. The time passed in blurred whirlwinds of abuse and rape. John couldn't tell if it had been hours or years. He found it difficult to bring himself to care.

"I'm home, my pet," Moriarty's voice called him from his darkness, "Do you know how long you've been here?"

John didn't answer, because he knew it didn't matter if he did or not.

"Two days, my sweet," his hand was in John's hair, "Two days and already you've given up everything. Tsk, tsk, my love, you would think a boy who had been through so much would have a bit more backbone."

John knew he should give some sort of defiant comment to that, but he couldn't make his indifference go away long enough to make his voice box work. Moriarty seemed pleased with his lack of response. He petted him softly and kissed his cheek.

"You'll grow to love me," he whispered, "Or die."

John allowed his mind to wonder if that was merely a statement or a threat, but it was interrupted by a frantic knocking at the door. Moriarty swiftly left his side, permitting him to float back into his darkness. There was an agitated whispered conversation and the sound of the door being slammed and locked. If John had been with it enough to hear, he would have heard the shouting and thumps, but he heard nothing. It wasn't until a voice was calling his name, did he realize something was going on.

"John! John! Where are you?!" the voice cried to him.

_I'm here, I'm right here, _his confused mind said.

There was more shouting and thumping, but John heard none of it. There was a crashing sound near him that vaguely pulled him from his abyss. He foggily saw a tall figure hurrying toward him. He felt hands on him, pushing him this way and that. He followed to prodding, assuming it was Moriarty. He felt the tightness on his neck release and something warm encircled him.

"John? Can you hear me?" a sweet voice called to him.

"Yes," John's voice was a mere tremble.

"I'm here, he's gone," the voice called, "I'm taking you home. You're going to be ok."

John's eyes cleared a bit as he looked up to the owner of the voice. He saw raven hair, curling down the side of a pale face. _That's not master…_his jumbled mind whispered.

"Wh-who?" John's voice startled himself, "Hello?"

Suddenly his mind sharpened into clarity. He felt pain searing all over his body, yet comforting arms wrapped around him. Something heavy and cloth separated him from the body. He looked down to see a familiar dark coat enfolded around him. He looked back up to the painfully familiar face.

"Sherlock?" he dared to ask.

"Yes," the vampire answered.

"No, get out of here," John's voice was weak, "He'll kill you."

"It's ok," Sherlock assured him.

"Ok," John replied, believing him without hesitation.

John felt himself being lifted up. He expected a tug at his neck, but felt none. He reached up to feel the skin there. His fingers found only his skin. _It's gone…._he smiled at the thought. He realized Sherlock was moving; he felt himself bob up and down slightly and bump against the hard chest of his lover. He settled into the familiar warmth and smell that was Sherlock. He noticed blood on Sherlock's face, but didn't bother to ask why it was there.

They paused for a moment as Sherlock twisted the front door handle. John happened to peek behind Sherlock to see a still form near the base of the stairs. He felt a jolt in his skin as he realized it was Moriarty. Another jolt went up his spine as he saw his limbs were at odd angles and blood was on and around him. He felt his own heart still as he noticed that a piece of wood had stilled Moriarty's. he felt himself smile, as a thought formed clearly in his head: _Sherlock won…_

* * *

**Little note: OK my dearies...Two options: 1. THE END, happily ever after. 2. I add another chapter with the battle of Sherlock and Moriarty. It's up to you. And for all of you who reviewed: THANK YOU SO MUCH! Reviews are my food and you keep me well fed. SO, thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you all! And if this is the end, thank you so much for sticking with me and thank you for your support!**


	23. Chapter 23

It hadn't taken that much time for Sherlock to come to his senses. He'd sat on his knees, stunned for perhaps an hour when a thought hit him: _Moriarty…he was talking about Moriarty and then he turned cold…something isn't right here. _He swiftly dialed a number he loathed.

"We're doing phone calls now, Sherlock?" muttered an agitated Mycroft.

"I need your help," Sherlock stated as clearly as he could, without losing his cool.

"What did you say?" Mycroft demanded (Sherlock could hear him sitting forward suddenly in his armchair).

"You heard," growled Sherlock, "What do you know about a vampire named James Moriarty?"

"He's dangerous," Mycroft answered, "Why?"

"Where is he?" Sherlock ignored Mycroft's questioning.

"Not for sure at the currently moment," Mycroft said, with a frustrated sigh, "We lost track of him just awhile back. Why do you need to know?"

Sherlock closed the phone without warning and whirled from the room. _Trinity, Marco, Michael, Leila, Acacia, Lee, Ari, Baron, Heidi, AIDEN! Of course, Aiden will know. Yes, yes. Fastest route…_Sherlock allowed his mind to calculate a route to Aiden that would be unencumbered by any stops. He ran through the streets and alleys, allowing himself to push the vampire speed that he rarely tapped into. _John, John, John, John, John, _the strange rhythm sounded in his head as his heartbeat sounded in his chest.

When he arrived at Aiden's extravagant home, he pounded on the door until whatever servant opened it.

"Master Aiden is not in," the man said in a low voice.

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded through clenched teeth.

"Madrid, dealing with a problem," the servant answered, promptly shouting the door in Sherlock's face.

But Sherlock hadn't stuck around long enough to realize this. As soon as Madrid had tumbled from the man's mouth, he'd shot of like a rocket. If he'd been thinking clearly, he may have gone to Mycroft and demanded a plane. However, his mind was fogged by fear for John and determination (it was just as well, Mycroft wouldn't have given him the plane, because he's a heartless prick). Sherlock raced through time and space (yes, in his own mind). Though hours were passing, he heard and saw nothing but the road ahead and his end goal. _John, John, John, John, _vibrated in his body. All he felt was that tapping in his heart that was John Watson.

* * *

"He's not stealing from you," Sherlock murmured in the shorter vampire's ear.

The brunette jumped half out of his dark skin. He whipped around to find the tall _boy _staring down at him.

"What?" the man snarled at him.

"He isn't stealing from you," Sherlock restated, "Someone else is stealing from him without his knowledge."

"And you know this how?" the man spat, "Oh, wait, I forgot. You're a _Holmes _you always just know things."

"Aiden, I need to know something," Sherlock said calmly, "Do you know the whereabouts of James Moriarty?"

"No," the man replied, "But he's got contacts in Berlin. One Sal Donovan, I believe."

"Thank you," Sherlock stated before whirling off again.

"Northern part," Aiden called after him.

He allowed himself a pause to eat (and not human eat, mind you) before he really started to Berlin. He ran faster than he ever had before. He knew that John was helpless against Moriarty and probably was hurt and scared now. He felt a fire in his skin lit by anger and purpose.

* * *

Hours and hours of thoughtless running later, Berlin was within his grasp. He quickly found Sal Donovan through the homeless there. She lived in a small flat, alone. Apparently, no one had mentioned to her that vampires were supposed to be rich. He pounded on her door. When the door opened he beheld an anger African British woman who was already telling him off, before he'd even said anything.

"Hang on! You're the guy!" she exclaimed at him a finger suddenly pointing at his chest.

"Sorry?" Sherlock questioned.

"You're the one Moriarty is after," she clarified.

"Yes," Sherlock admitted, "Do you know where he is?"

"No, but you better try Anderson in Amsterdam," she replied and slammed the door.

Sherlock turned on his heel and sped off. Once again stopping only to replenish his strength, he ran for Amsterdam. He suppressed all thoughts of what state John may be in and merely forced himself to continue, his drum beat of Johns still egging him on.

* * *

It was harder to find this man, as he appeared to keep extremely to himself. Donovan had been easy to find because she often went to the homeless to quench her thirst. This Anderson on the other hand seemed to have some other way of obtaining blood. He eventually found a very clear trail leading to a quaint cottage by water. He'd found it easy enough to find when he realized it was isolated and there were myths about an awful demon living there. He pounded on the door. It opened with a squeak and he found a pale, dark haired man with an atrocious nose staring at him.

"What?" the man said in a flat voice.

"Do you know the location of James Moriarty," Sherlock asked.

"No," the man replied, "Go to Gent in Belgium. He's got some sort of family there or something."

"Thank you," Sherlock replied, as he began to turn on his heel to leave.

"Wait, I may have an address," the man called.

Sherlock stalled for a moment as the man went back inside the house and retrieved something. He returned to Sherlock, flipping through a tiny notebook.

"Here it is," the man said, "Molly Hooper, not really family, actually. She's more someone he uses now and again. I bet she can lead you to Moriarty."

He ripped a page from the notebook and handed it to Sherlock.

"Thank you," Sherlock stated again, turning to leave.

"Not as cold as they said you were," the man stated, before closing the door with a quiet snap.

Sherlock pushed the thought away, as he hurried on to his next appointment. He took up is rhythm as he ran. It allowed it to falter only for a moment as he thought of Anderson's comment. _Who is "they"? _He pondered it briefly before returning his focus to his running.

* * *

He wasn't happy when he found Molly Hopper. He'd gone to the address and was told that Molly Hopper didn't live there any longer. When he asked where she did live he was given an address. It led him to a small, quiet patch of land filled with tiny grey stones. He growled in frustration and anger. He tore the paper out of his pocket to make sure he'd gotten the right name and address, though he knew he did. As he glared at the paper, as though it was all its fault, he noticed a bright red line that connected Molly Hooper's name with another.

"Irene Addler," Sherlock murmured.

He groaned again at the awful address. _Paris, Paris, Paris, _his mind snarled, _why can't I just find John!?_

When he finally reached the doorstep of Irene Addler, he was weak and oddly tired. She graciously (HAHA!) allowed Sherlock into her house. He quickly asked her for Moriarty's location. She only smiled at him.

"Last he talked to me," she purred at him, "He was in London. That wasn't too long ago. I assume he's there now. He didn't tell me the exact location. He only said that his friend Aiden had helped him find a place."

Sherlock's eyes blurred with anger. His fists clenched tightly and unclenched as he determined whether to slide a stake through Aiden's heart, before or after he'd found Moriarty and saved John. He wasn't exactly sure how deeply into this thought process he was before he fainted, but when he woke up it was in a panic. He threw the sheets from him and ran to the nearest exit. Irene stepped into his path, stark naked. She put on her seduction face and he roughly pushed to the side. She was too stunned to follow. Sherlock stopped at the front door and turned back slightly.

"I'm sixteen!" he shouted at her in disgust.

Then he fled. He ran and ran until there was no more land and then he swam, too impatient to wait for a boat. Once on dry land, he ran to his town and to the nearest house he knew that Aiden owned. It was empty. He ran to the next, also empty. He ran to another and another, until there was only a few left. He quickly tried to clear his mind and decided which most likely held his beloved. _Moriarty is…showy? Extravagant…Ah…The Palace, _Sherlock's thoughts had him racing down the street, dodging pedestrians, cars and the occasional stray cat.

When he made it there he busted down the door before he even confirmed that this was indeed where Moriarty stayed. There was a flurry of arms on him that easily cracked under his pressure. There was howling, but Sherlock barely took notice to it, as he swung his hands and legs in a deadly dance. _1..blonde. Weak knee. Tsk. Down. 2. Tall. What an oaf. Artery, throat, pressure. Down. 3. Gun. Gun? Really? How dull. Twist, crack, slide, chop. Down. 4…speed. This one is vampire. _The vampire lunged at Sherlock. Sherlock easily batted him away, dodging to the side. He managed to grip a wrist and twirl the vampire, sending him crashing into a chair whose leg fortunately (or unfortunately) impaled his chest. _That is incredibly lucky. I think John is a good luck charm, _Sherlock mused.

Suddenly, there was slow clapping behind him. Sherlock turned slowly to glare at Moriarty.

"Well done, Sherlock," the vampire smiled that dam Cheshire cat smile that made Sherlock want to hit something, "You've killed my humans and my vampire….and he was my favorite."

"Give me John," Sherlock stated.

"No!" Moriarty screamed at him, "You don't deserve such wonderful blood!"

"Prepare to die," Sherlock declared.

"That's cute," Moriarty growled in his amused-but-not-really voice.

He lunged at Sherlock, only to find a nice wooden stake through his heart. His mouth opened in a horribly wide O. Sherlock pushed him away allowing him to fall to the ground.

"I actually thought you were clever for a minute," Sherlock whispered, "Love will make you strong and strong makes you smart. And sense I'm already a genius, I guess that just means I'm out of this world. Did you think I wouldn't have a stake on me? Pathetic."

James Moriarty's mouth closed into a large, bemused grin. Sherlock left him to die at the bottom of the steps and called out for John.

"He doesn't want you," Moriarty gasped out.

Sherlock picked up the nearest heavy object and slammed it down on Moriarty's face.

"That's where you are wrong, idiot!" Sherlock yelled at him and threw the object down at his feet.

He quickly stomped up the stairs calling for Sherlock. Suddenly, he heard his lover's breath behind a door. Without warning, he kicked it in and swooped in to rescue the love of his life. He ripped the infernal collar from John with his sharp teeth and wrapped John in his own coat. He lifted him and carried him from the dragon's lair, pleased that he had saved the one he loved, one last thought crossing his mind before allowing worry to resettle itself back into his mind: _We won…_

* * *

**Little note: Oh my dearies...I am so very, very tired. SO I made the action chapter as per your requests. It's not what you were all expecting, but I feel that it is very much Sherlock. ANYWAY. I think I may add another fluff chapter, but not tonight because I'm bout ready to pass out! SO I hope you like it and don't hate me! Love you all!**


	24. Chapter 24

When John woke up, he wasn't in his own bed, wrapped in his own sheets. He wasn't in 221B and he wasn't in his house. His eyes darted around in brief post-sleep panic. He relaxed when he felt long, thin arms around him. He snuggled back against Sherlock, closing his eyes again.

"You don't have to go back to sleep," Sherlock murmured.

"I know," John answered, "But I don't want to move from this spot for a million years."

John felt Sherlock's chest rumble as he chuckled at John's comment. The bed shifted and John looked to see Sherlock looking down on him. He soundlessly leaned down and kissed John softly. John smiled into the kiss and Sherlock laughed quietly. John was relieved when Sherlock returned to his position behind him, pulling John close to him. John breathed in Sherlock's smell and wrinkled his nose.

"You stink," John blurted.

"Haven't showered in a few days now," Sherlock answered, "Shall I go do that now?"

Sherlock began to move away.

"No!" John shouted, "Stay. Forever."

"I will," Sherlock whispered in his ear.

"Good," John said quietly, "Because I need you. Where are we anyway?"

John suddenly looked around, remembering he wasn't somewhere familiar. He saw several tall, full book shelves filled with books, science equipment and objects John couldn't name. He saw a desk piled with books and paper. The room was incredibly cluttered. John found himself itching to clean it up.

"This is my house," Sherlock replied, "And this is my room."

"What?" John cried out.

He sat up suddenly, finding himself trying to look at everything at once. _This is Sherlock's room? Wow! I'm in his room! This is his room! His room! Holy crap! _John felt excitement bubble up inside him as his eyes darted around trying to take everything in. Sherlock sat up on one arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," John answered, relaxing slightly, "I was just surprised. You have a very messy room, Sherlock."

"Thanks, John," Sherlock laughed, falling back onto his bed.

"I mean…It's just a bit cluttered is all," John said, trying to be nice.

"It's ok, John," Sherlock grinned at him, "I know it is rather messy. I usually just leave everything where it is and walk away. I don't clean. It's boring."

"I could clean it for you," John offered.

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" Sherlock questioned.

"No," John answered, sheepishly.

"We'll clean it," Sherlock stated, "Just not now. I need a shower."

"Oh, ok," John answered, "What should I do?"

"Why don't you go down to the kitchen?" Sherlock suggested, "I bet you're very hungry."

"Oh, ok," John answered, "Where's that?"

"Down the stairs," Sherlock gestured towards his door, "It won't be hard to miss once you get downstairs."

Sherlock got up and stretched his back, his hands reaching up toward the ceiling. He meandered over to his closet, as John slipped down off the large bed. _The sheets are slippery, _John noticed. He felt the sheets with his fingertips. _Is this silk? _He wondered. It was a sapphire color that matched one of Sherlock's shirts, the one he'd given John to wear at one point. John smiled at the memory. He decided he loved sapphire.

He suddenly remembered he wasn't wearing clothes. He looked down at the heavy coat that Sherlock had thrown on him.

"Sherlock, can I borrow some clothes?" John asked tentatively.

"Sure," Sherlock grunted from his closet.

Suddenly clothes were flying at John from the door of the closet. He tried and failed to catch each item, stumbling over his clumsy feet. He picked up the clothes noting that the shirt was a lovely shade of periwinkle and the jeans were going to be huge on him. He blushed at the black pants that Sherlock had thrown at him, but slipped them on anyway. He pulled on the clothes, rolling up the pant legs and the sleeves as best as he could.

"Alright, I'm gonna go then," he called to Sherlock.

He heard a grunt from the closet and took that to mean Sherlock heard him. He shuffled to the door that he assumed was the exit. He shuffled his way out of it and down the large set of stairs. He looked around the room, realizing this must be a living room. He took a few steps before realizing that to his left was the kitchen. He shuffled into it, the tile feeling cold on his feet.

He gaped at the cleanliness of it and the newness of it. _That's Sherlock I suppose. _John thought with a tiny smile. He stepped to the refrigerator to find that it was mostly empty. He frowned at it and closed the door. He searched the cabinets until he found a kettle and tea (because vampire or not, no British person goes without tea). He was sipping it quietly from a plain white cup when a throat cleared behind him.

He whipped around, stumbling slightly and almost losing his tea. Before him stood a tall, pale vampire with a little bit of brown hair on his head. The vampire had an umbrella in one hand and an annoyingly long nose on his face.

"You must be the human," the vampire stated, "I can tell by your smell. Hmm. You don't seem all that remarkable."

"Who are you?" John demanded.

"My name is Mycroft," the vampire replied, "Hasn't he told you about me?"

John's heart stuttered at the name.

"No," John admitted.

"Of course he hasn't," Mycroft sighed, "I'm only his older brother and only bit of family he has. Why would he tell you? That is a lovely shirt by the way."

John blushed violently at realizing that his jealously was misplaced. He then blushed harder as he looked down at the several sizes too large shirt that he'd given up rolling the sleeves up on.

"It's not what you think," John mumbled bashfully, "I just needed some clothes is all."

"Of course," Mycroft stated, "Never mind that Sherlock has never allowed anyone to wear his clothes before."

"Shove off, Mycroft," came a growl behind Mycroft.

John was relieved to see Sherlock standing there, his hair still wet from the shower. Mycroft turned to look at his younger brother.

"Why haven't you told me?" Mycroft said in a clear, soft voice.

"Because it's none of your business!" Sherlock shouted at him, "Why are you here anyway? Don't you have lives to ruin?"

"Indeed," Mycroft answered, "Just checking on my brother. Concern for family and all that."

With that, Mycroft left Sherlock and John standing in the kitchen.

"There's barely any food, Sherlock," John said, in an effort to ease the tension.

"I forgot," Sherlock answered, "We'll go someplace."

"Ok," John drank the rest of his tea before setting the cup gently in the sink, "I need shoes, Sherlock."

"Yes, here they are," Sherlock said as a thump sounded in the kitchen.

"You have my shoes?" John questioned.

"Got them from Moriarty's place before we left," Sherlock muttered.

"Really?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded and suddenly John didn't feel so well. His knees wobbled and his stomach ached. He suddenly felt bruises and cuts on his body that he forgot were there. He shakily found his way to the floor, breathing heavily.

"John?" Sherlock was instantly beside him, holding him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," John whispered, "I just remembered everything that happened. Please don't say that name again."

"I won't," Sherlock assured him.

They stayed still for several moments in that position. Sherlock stroked John's hair in a soothing manner and they just stayed like that. John pressed his head into Sherlock's chest, finally able to smell that familiar spice smell.

"Yes," John stated firmly.

"What?" Sherlock asked with a confused look.

"I will marry you," John answered.

"Really?" Sherlock said in surprise.

"Really," John confirmed.

Sherlock beamed down at him and John mirrored the expression. Sherlock leaned down and gently kissed his lips. John winced slightly as Sherlock's lips hit the cut on his lower lip. Sherlock noticed the wince and slid his tongue out to slide slickly over the cut. John felt a slight tingle as the cut was healed. He looked up at Sherlock with a smile on his face as hot and happy tears threatened to form.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips touching Sherlock's as his mouth formed the words.

"I love you too," Sherlock answered, his lips mimicking the slight brushing of lips.

John closed the tiny space between them, pressing his lips hard against Sherlock's. He gripped Sherlock's shirt in tight fists that said, "You're mine forever and I'm never letting go." Sherlock pulled John closer, deepening the kiss. _Oh, this is so not normal, _John thought, _never normal with Sherlock Holmes._

* * *

**Little note: Do you guys like the ending? I thought it was a good way to end...I love you guys! I will miss you!**


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